:NCH BANCROFT LIBRARY <> THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA COLONEL WILLIAM F. CODY. (Buffalo Bill) MAJOR GORDON W. LILLIE. (Pawnee Bill) THRILLING LIVES OF BUFFALO BILL COLONEL WM. F. CODY Last of the Great Scouts AND PAWNEE BILL MAJOR GORDON W. LILLIE White Chief of the Pawnees BY FRANK WINCH THIRD EDITION Copyrighted, 1911 by COLONEL WM. F. CODY and MAJOR GORDON W. LILLIE S. L. PARSONS & CO., INC. Publishers and Printers No. 45 Rose Street NEW YORK N. Y. BANCROF1 DEDICATION TRIBUTE TO MOTHER. (Copy of personal letter written by Buffalo Bill to the author.) VISALIA, CALIFORNIA, October 13, 1910. MY DEAR FRANK: Yes I had the great pleasure of meeting your dear little mother, and when I gazed on her sweet face and listened to her gentle voice she reminded me very much of my own angel mother who was little and sweet like your mother. And, Frank, I grew up among some of the roughest men and some of the most desperate characters that ever infested the border of civilization and had it not been for the teachings and prayers of my mother I, too, might have died with my boots on. I think to our mothers we owe most. God bless our mothers. Your true friend, W. F. CODY. [3] CHAPTER CONTENTS. PAGE I . . Boyhood days of "Buffalo Bill" . . 9 II . . Shoots First Indian , 19 III . . As Pony Express Rider .... 29 IV . . A Civil War Spy 39 V . . Wild BUl's Own Story 51 VI . . How "Buffalo Bill" Won His Name 59 VII . . Sheridan's Chief of Scouts ... 71 VIII . . The Battle of Summit Springs . . 81 IX . . Cody Entertains Royalty at Buffalo Hunt 91 X . . Pawnee Bill's Boyhood Days ... 101 XI . . Buffalo Bill As an Actor .... 115 XII . . Pawnee Bill Meets Jesse James . 125 XIII . . Buffalo Bill's Duel with Chief Yel- low Hand 139 XIV . . Pawnee Bill Heads the Oklahoma Land Boomers 147 XV . . Buffalo Bill Made Brigadier-General 157 XVI . . Opening of the Cherokee Landstrip, Pawnee Bill in the Lead . . . 165 XVII . . How Buffalo Bill's Wild West Was Organized 175 XVIII . . Pawnee Bill, the "Jekyll and Hyde of the West" 187 XIX . . Buffalo Bill's Last Time on the Bat- tlefield 195 XX . . Buffalo Bill's Vast Properties ... 201 XXI . . Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch and Home 207 XXII . . Buffalo Bill's Personal Farewell in the Saddle 217 [51 ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGES Buffalo Bill Frontispiece Pawnee Bill Frontispiece Proclamation 8-9 Cody's Boyhood Friends 16-17 Custer, Duke Alexis, Buffalo Bill 24-25 Characteristic Pose 32-33 Close to Nature 40-41 Death of "Tall Bull" 48-49 The Wounded Scout 56-57 Chief "Iron Tail" 64-65 Shooting Glass Balls 72-73 A Typical Cowboy 80-81 Scenes from Cody's Life 88-89 Generals Cody Served 96-97 A Duel in the Open 104-105 Cody Meets the King 112-113 Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill 120-121 Battle of Summit Springs 128-129 Why Buffalo Bill Retires 136-137 Buffalo Bill's Properties 144-145 On the Cody Trail 152-153 A Band of Sioux Indians 160-161 Pawnee Bill's Home 168-169 Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch 176-177 The Lillie Family 184-185 A Consultation 192-193 The Indian Monument 200-201 Making the War Bonnet 208-209 The Farewell Salute 216-217 [6] PREFACE. History is merely the chronicle of great men. Their deeds remain alive forever time and epochs flicker only a moment and are succeeded again by time and men. As we each span our brief career, it is given to some to know great men only by the history they create others to do with, to know personally, to enjoy their confidence, to study at close range the qualities that differentiate greatness. It is just this favored opportunity of intimate observa- tion that prompts the dual life histories of Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill. Buffalo Bill's fame was spreading when the gray heads of to-day were romping youngsters of yester- day, others grow old but the famous Scout seemed to revel in perpetual youth, at last, however, the inevitable is clocking off the showmanship days of Buffalo Bill, he has decreed the present season as his farewell in the sad- dle. He retires to enjoy the fruits of a life teeming with danger, sorrows, joys and struggles crowned with the ineffable gift of being America's most loved and Ideal Hero Horseman. The question is asked, "Who will take Buffalo Bill's place ?" and the following pages will couple in golden links the passing of the world's greatest Scout, Colonel William Frederick Cody, with his only legitimate successor, a man who courted prairie dangers when a boy, whose metal was tempered with the trying hardships that beset a primi- tive West, whose whole life has runged the ladder of Indian warfare, adventure, scouting, border fights, and the early settlement of one of our finest Western States Major Gordon W. Lillie, "Pawnee Bill." [7] The lives of both these history makers are threaded with action of fact. I have eliminated from these pages every detail that smacks of tinseled theatrics. Buffalo Bill is one of the gentlest of men, warm hearted, kindly and generous. He is not demonstrative, nor does he enthuse, he is not impressionistic, but at all times he is observant of the slightest good in others. He notes every turn and twist of character, he is a student of human nature and a good one. He is a man that rewards friend and foe in a befitting manner. I hero-worshiped Buffalo Bill when a child, adored him in youth, and now in manhood my fondest kid dreams have become crystallized in fact by the pleasure and honor of meeting him, knowing him and valuing his good friend- ship. I want every boy-man and every man-boy in the world to know Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill as I know them, I want to poise these two greatest of our living frontiersmen as an example for the emulation of young and old America that those whose trail in life is cobbled with the sharp-edged stones of adversity may take a fresh grip on determination and reach their goal of happiness, every man's heritage. In this volume I aim at nothing more than giving to their million friends a simple, accurate and fictionless resume of the two greatest and most noted living plains- men that America ever had occasion to cherish the Honorable William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," and Major Gordon W. Lillie, "Pawnee Bill." FRANK WINCH New York, March 6, 1911. [8] BUFFALO B!L1| FAREWELI: TO THE PUBLIC: AFTER MANY YEARS of almost constant devotion to my calling, I have determined to retire from active service at the expiration of a final and complete tour of the American continent. THEREFORE, following a series of "Farewell Exhibi- tions" whichl hope to give in 1911 and 1912,1 shall per- manently abandon the arena, and seek to enjoy some of the fruits of my labors, which I feel that I have well earned during a long life of activity on the frontier, in the field during the Civil and Indian Wars, and as a provider of the r. I most approved drama of our National History. L- 1 IT IS, however, my earnest desire to once more salute from _UH *h e saddle my millions of friends and patrons, and I take this <'J opportunity to emphatically state that this will be my LAST, SOLE AND ONLY PROFESSIONAL APPEARANCE in the cities and towns nominated in the present itinerary, as it is- my purpose to leave the active manag hibition, which I have created, in tl Lillie (Pawnee Bill), and his associates, prise on the same magnificent scale and true fidelity that 1 have always tried to maintain, but without my perspnal presence in the saddle. AND NOW that I have reached this unalterable conclusion, I want to thank my numerous friends and the public for the full measure of success and applause that they have bestowed upon me, and I know of no honor that I shall cherish more than their good wishes, while the silent years are lurking in ambush for "The OIU Scout," and at the conclusion of each and every perform- ance I shall bid my numerous friends a fond farewell. Yours, always sincerely, CHAPTER I. BOYHOOD DAYS OF BUFFALO BILL. OTHER, I've just killed my first Indian," gleefully shouted a bright-faced, rosy- cheeked lad of eleven, with eyes glistening as they fondly ranged over the rifle he car- ried. Putting the gun away, the youngster ran to his mother, kissed her and took both hands in his. "It was pretty exciting, too, mother," the lad continued. "Willie, you must be careful." It wasn't that Mrs. Cody didn't exactly approve of Indian killing, for in 1857 the redskins were recklessly massacring any and all the whites they chanced upon, but she feared for a lad of such tender age going into the open and risking his own precious life made more so at this time, for youth that he was, Willie Cody was the head of the family and its sole male protector. [9] THRILLING LIVES This then is our first introduction to William Frederick Cody later on Colonel the Honorable and as he is known in every civilized country on earth "Buffalo Bill." Isaac and Mary Cody, his parents, pioneers of Iowa, lived near the town of Le^Clair, on the comfortable Scott Farm, Scott County, Iowa. It was here on the morning of February 26, 1846, that Cody was born. There were seven children, Martha, Julia, Eliza, Helen, May, Samuel and William. The latter was the fourth child. His first few years were spent in the ordinary life of most robust farmers' children. At a very early age Billy Cody became an adept at boating, fishing, shooting and in the art of horsemanship. In 1849 Isaac Cody operated a stage line between Chi- cago and Davenport, la., there being no railroads at that time. His business was prosperous, but like many others he listened to the call of the Far W^est. California was then in the throes of its gold fever craze. The elder Cody made up his mind, turned his property into cash, and shortly after with the entire family safely stored away in wagons, joined one of the numerous cross-continent cara- vans. Proceeding but a few miles, they met returning strag- [10] CODY IN CONSTANT DEVILTRY glers from the Pacific Coast Eldorado. Tales of hardships were not infrequently heard. Among the party were friends of Cody who endeavored to discourage him from the perilous and, as they found it, fruitless trip across the country. Dreams of golden fortunes vanished from the newly organized prospectors, most of whom returned home. The Cody family moved along, however, and finally located at Walnut Grove Farm in Scott County. Bill Cody was sent to school. While his merry nature was the life of his class, it also proved too trying a task for the teacher. The lad was in constant deviltry, first one thing and then another, until one day, after being attacked and badly whipped by a boy much older and stronger than the little fellow, Cody made up his mind for revenge. His chance came soon after. The bully attacked him again. Cody retaliated *and thrashed the coward in good school-boy fashion. With loud cries that he was being murdered, the big boy ran to the teacher for help. Cody was dismissed, and afterwards offered reinstatement, but he was too full of animal spirits, he loved out-doors too well, his traps, gun, horse and the woods were his only curriculum of study. THRILLING LIVES Isaac Cody became prominent as a farmer and politician. He was elected Justice of the Peace and frequently stumped the county on behalf of the Whigs. It was dur- ing a convention that he harangued an interested crowd at a cross-road tavern called "Sherman's," that the first disaster entered his life, one that was to have portentous weight in the future, one that spun the cycle of events sadly and swiftly for his devoted family. It was on that day that William and Samuel, the older brother, had gone for a horseback ride; Sam, who was then fourteen years old was a remarkably good horseman. His pony, a wild and unruly little creature, suddenly plunged. "Look out for him, Sam!" Billy cried. "Oh, he's all right," Sam answered. "Pretty near got me then, didn't you, pony?" he said, scolding his horse. Without a second's warning the animal plunged again, and when standing on its hind feet reared backward, fell to the ground, the unfortunate Sam was pinioned be- neath. The lad lived but a few hours. Crushed by the loss of her son, Mrs. Cody could not remain where painful memories of the sad accident were constantly freshened to her mind. The family moved westward this time heading for Weston, Platte County, [12] PLAYING WITH INDIANS Missouri, where a brother of Isaac Cody was living. It was the father's intention to eventually reach Kansas. For a year or so things moved quietly. The father engaged in trading with the Indians, earning their re- spect and friendship, likewise that of the settlers. Will Cody spent most of his time playing with the Kickapoo Indian boys, learning their language, how to handle the bow and arrow, and in many ways studying their traits and habits. In 1854 a bill called "The Enabling Act of Kansas," was passed. Thousands of homeseekers flocked to the territory. Many came from the adjoining States, includ- ing numbers of Missourians. The country was being racked with the slavery ques- tion. Most of the Missourians, as was his brother Elija, were in favor of negro bondage. Frequent meetings were held and speeches intended to inflame pro-slavery sup- port were heard on all sides. Isaac Cody maintained discreet silence, but his ability as an orator led others to draw him from seclusion, little thinking of the calamity that was to follow. From the North and South came the ominous rumbles of battle talk, the pro- and anti-slavery men in all sections busied them- [13] THRILLING LIVES selves in proselyting to one banner or the oth'er. Weston, the little prairie village, issued a call for a gigantic mass meeting. Speakers from near-by settlements were invited to strengthen the cause by an expression of their views.. The elder Cody was prevailed upon to talk. Billy accompanied his father to the meeting place. It was held in the open, a huge box doing service as a rostrum, and on all sides a hundred or so drink-crazed slavery fanatics had gathered to hear Isaac Cody's de- nunciation of pro-slavery. His appearance was greeted with cheers, then as he mounted the box a silence spread, the men listened eagerly. "Gentlemen and fellow citizens," began Cody in clear, determined voice, "I accept your invitation to speak it is against my will. My views are not in accord with the rest of this assembly. The question before us to-day is: Shall the Territory of Kansas be a free or slave State? The question of slavery is a broad one ; your motive in call- ing upon me is to have me express my sentiments in regard to the introduction of slavery in Kansas. I will gratify your wish ; I am one of the pioneers of Iowa, gen- tlemen ; I voted that it should be a white State." This unexpected statement came like a thunderbolt, [14] CODY PROTECTS His FATHER "Down with him/' yelled an infuriated wretch, brandish- ing a pistol. "Hear him out!" shouted others; and when quiet was restored, Cody continued: "I say to you now, and say it emphatically, that I propose to exert all my power in making Kansas the same kind of a State as Iowa." Angry murmurs and subdued threats swept over the crowd. Bill Cody, young as he was, scented danger, and edged closer to his father, keeping an eye on a wicked- looking gangster who was fingering his revolver. "These are my sentiments, gentlemen," Cody continued, "and let me tell you " But the sentence was never fin- ished. The mob was worked to a fever heat of frenzy; it hooted and hissed. "Get down from that box !" "Traitor!" "Kill him! Kill him!" The elder Cody was in the act of continuing his speech when a skulking coward sneaked up behind, dealt the guarding youngster a terrible blow on the head, jumped to the box and sank his bowie knife to its hilt in Isaac Cody's back. [15] THRILLING LIVES Instantly pandemonium reigned ; the assassin sprang at the prostrate body as it rolled to the ground. "Men, this is not fair play," exclaimed Billy Cody. "Give father a chance." The better element in the crowd overpowered the mur- derer. Realizing the effect of this lawlessness in the blood- stained body of heroic Isaac Cody as it lay on the ground, most of the mob quickly dispersed. Helping hands car- ried the unconscious man to his home. For weeks he hovered between life and death, and for weeks the family was kept in constant terror by the frequent raids of a blood-thirsty gang, who, on hearing that he was still alive, demanded Cody's life. One evening a month or so after the stabbing, when Mr. Cody had convalesced sufficiently to sit up, a party of horsemen drew rein at the door. Billy had seen them approach, and gave the warning, Mrs. Cody hastily hid the sick man in an upper room. "Halloo, there ! Open that door !" came the shouts from the crowd. Mrs. Cody opened the window. "What do you want?" she exclaimed. [16] TEXAS JACK WILD BILI^BUFFALO BILL. As They Appeared in Their Younger Days. "GET READY LOAD GUNS" "We are after that abolitionist husband of yours," an- swered one of the crowd. "He is not in this house," Mrs. Cody replied, with brave voice. "That's a lie ! We know that he's here, and we're bound to have him," said the spokesman, advancing with his crowd. "Stop, or you will all be killed; this house is full of armed men." She withdrew from the window for a min- ute, and hurriedly instructed the herder to call aloud cer- tain names, any that he might think of, just as if the house was full of men to whom he was giving orders. He followed the directions to the very letter; the crowd outside heard him, and thought that there was really quite a force of men in the house. While this was going on, Mrs. Cody opened the window and said: "You had better go away the men will surely fire on you." At this point the herder, Billy Cody, and his sisters commenced stamping on the floor, imitating a squad of soldiers marching to the front of the house, and the herder issued orders in a loud voice to his imaginary force of men: THRILLING LIVES "Get ready, load guns, aim " The stratagem, was successful; the villains, all except the man who stabbed Cody, fled. This fellow approached the house steps. Bill Cody, grabbing a rifle, sprang to the window, leveled at the ruffian. "Stop!" exclaimed Cody. "Not another step! And if father dies I will kill you!" 18] CHAPTER II. SHOOTS FIRST INDIAN. Y NO means had the turbulent days come to an end for the Codys. The pro-slavery men kept up a persistent persecution of Isaac Cody, whose recovery was slow and never complete. In the Spring of 1857 he succumbed to the wound, a martyr for the cause of Kansas in an effort to keep it unsullied with the blackness of slavery. The land of his adoption and where his son in after years was to carve glory from hardships became his last resting place. Isaac Cody's remains now rest at Pilot Knob, which overlooks the city of Leavenworth. Friend and foe granted him in death the tributes of respect he merited as an upright, generous, kindly and just man. Some weeks after this, a youngster not twelve years old walked in to an office in Leavenworth. THRILLING LIVES "I want to see the boss," Billy Cody said. "I'm he/' replied a Mr. Majors of the firm of Russel, Majors and Wadell, who were overland freighters and contractors. "What do you want?" "Work." "What can a boy of your age do?" asked Majors kindly. "I can ride, shoot and herd cattle," said Cody. "I'm the head of the family now and will do anything honest that pays the best money, so that I can take care of my mother and sisters." "What's your name, my boy?" "Billy Cody." Mr. Majors looked at the handsome, manly youngster for a second; he had known his father well. "I would like to do something for you, but our work is too hard for such a lad." "You pay man's wages for man's work, don't you?" asked Bill. "Give me a chance ; I want nothing but what I can earn." Will was employed as extra boy on a freight caravan. The die was cast ; unknowingly to boy and man he was launched on a career that meant more for civilization than [20] GOOD-BYE, MOTHER any would have ventured to guess. Thrown on his own resources when most lads think only of marbles or top spinning, with the added duty of earning a support for mother and sisters. Cody, whose fame was subsequently to penetrate the farthermost corners of the world, began a life that for half a century afterward was beset with every danger and peril that human could encounter and survive. He keystoned the arch of reclamation that gave to our country its best, most fertile and richest section of the great unknown West. In a twinkling Billy had hurried home, told his mother and sisters of his good fortune, packed away a few trin- kets, a small Bible, fondly kissed his sweet little mother and the youngsters good-bye, and rushed back to report for duty. Quick orders had been received at the office to dispatch a herd of cattle to General Albert Sidney Johnson, who was enroute across the plains, headed for Salt Lake to fight the Mormons. Frank and Bill McCarthy had charge of the supply train and herd of cattle ; young Cody was assigned as ex- tra boy, his duties carrying him from one wagon to the other with messages from the different bosses. [21] THRILLING LIVES The- "bullwhackers," in other words drivers and the wagon masters, took a great fancy to young Cody. They liked his quiet and manly ways, his pluck in undertaking such hard work. The first part of the journey was uneventful. Cody welcomed an order, as it gave him a chance to dash back and forward on a spirited pony. His riding won the praise of everyone on the train. So far all had been serene. He was homesick at times for the loving ones left behind. He grew tired, as his young body was not hardened to the tiresome travel; but always before him shone the beacon of success, he made up his mind to win out, and how well he succeeded subsequent events speak for themselves. Nothing occurred to interrupt the journey until the caravan reached Plum Creek on the South Platte River, about thirty-five miles west of Old Fort Kearney. The train had made its morning drive and halted for dinner. Three men were placed on guard as outpost, and nearly all the balance, tired with the arduous trip, spread them- selves under the mess wagon for a short sleep. Will Cody was repairing a broken saddle strap. In the far distance he thought he espied a cloud of dust or rain. [22] THREE GUARDS SHOT "Going to storm, ain't it ?" he asked one of the drivers. "Look over there." "Storm hell 1" shouted the other, after a glance. "Them's Indians." Cody gave a shout of warning, and a second later as the men hustled from a soft sleep, grabbed their guns and prepared for action. A volley of shots came from the left, the air rang with demoniac war whoops in a flash, the cattle had stampeded and were scurrying in all directions. The three guards were shot down, and the Indians by hundreds came charg- ing at the brave little body of men huddled behind the wagons. This was Cody's first sight of Indians on murder bent. He had heard of them, their bloodthirsty yells, their poi- soned arrows, their naked, highly-colored, stained bodies ; their fantastic-colored headgear. He was flushed with excitement, quietly pulling the gun trigger he raised just over the wagon side. "Get down there, boy !" yelled the man beside him, as a bullet whistled over the youngster's head. "Them red devils can shoot like mad!" [23] THRILLING LIVES Cody crouched beside the wagon master and waited for orders from the boss. On they came, the Indians mounted on snorting, hard-breathing ponies, war-whooping to the accompanying horse-hoof tattoo as they raced over the hard, brown, sunburnt prairies. The wagon men were all well armed with heavy Colt revolvers and Mississippi yaegers, a powerful gun carry- ing a bullet and two buckshot. "Steady, boys!" Frank McCarthy sang out coolly. "Take good aim, pick your man. Fire!" The guns thundered, and through powder flash and smoke the leader saw the effect of the fire. The volley checked the rush for a moment. "Boys," McCarthy yelled, "load up as you run and make a break for that slough yonder ; we can use its bank for a breastwork." On double-quick the men dashed for cover, reached it in safety, carrying along one of their number who had been wounded. The bank afforded excellent protection, but McCarthy was worried. "The longer we stay here," he said, "the worse we'll be coraUed ; we must try to make our way back to Fort Ke.ar- [24] FOLLOWED BY INDIANS ney by wading the river, keeping in the shadow of the bank." Slowly and cautiously the little band of men edged their way down the stream, in places it was so deep that they had to swim; a raft was built for the wounded herder. The Indians followed at a safe distance, occasionally sending along a bothersome shot or poisoned arrow. Strong men as they were, the strain and labor began to tell on the wagon drivers. It was a case of every man for himself ; little attention had been paid to young Cody, who was drenched to the skin. Surging with excitement, his brain and body not used to such a gruelling task, was deadly fatigued. The youngster began to lag behind. It was about ten o'clock that night the moon at times peeped through tree tops fringing the river bank. All was quiet save the gurgling water as the stream swirled around the tired legs of the wagon men. They were mov- ing forward very slowly. Cody crept to the bank exhausted. He crawled beneath a big bowlder for a moment's rest, his body numbed, his eyes drowsy; the youngster's head was soon nodding its willingness to toss off to slumber. [25] THRILLING LIVES The others of the party continued on. All was silence. Suddenly a twig snapped on the bank's edge overhead. Cody was alert in a second. He listened. Then came the sound of dry grass rustling as if an animal were stealthily moving. Instinctively the boy scented danger. He cau- tiously peered around the bowlder's edge, and at the same instant the moon rays fell aslant the river bank's crest. There, peering down the stream, lying prostrate, poising his rifle for a deadly shot, was an Indian with head plumed in Chieftain's feathers. The redskin's rifle trigger clicked and at the same instant Cody aimed. Bang! a blinding flash, a puff of smoke, and the In- dian came tumbling down to the water's edge, dead. The shot was a warning for the men ahead; a second later the Indians, who had wriggled themselves to the river bank top, opened fire. Cody's shot had drawn their attention, and, thinking that the entire body of whites were close at hand, the redskins fusilladed the direction from where Cody's shot came. He had dodged back behind the bowlder, and lay there uninjured waiting for another chance. Led on by McCarthy, the men soon routed the Indians, Cody scrambling over the bank, joined in the fight and [26] BILLY, YOU'RE A DANDY had his first taste of Indian warfare. The little heroic band gathered around two of its men that had fallen in the skirmish. "Men, that first shot was the warning that saved all our lives," exclaimed Frank McCarthy, gazing. at the Indian Cody shot. "Who fired it?" "I did," modestly spoke up young Cody. "By thunder, Billy, you're a dandy!" and the wagon master was the first to grasp his hand. "We owe our lives to you." The men showered their gratitude and congratulations on the blushing youngster. "Just doing my duty," Bill remarked. "Mr. Majors told me that I would have to do a man's work to get a man's pay, and I'm trying to do it." [27] CHAPTER III. As A PONY EXPRESS RIDER. OR an hour or so the party waited; making sure that the Indians had abandoned their attack, they proceeded cautiously to Kear- ney, where Russel, Majors and Wadell had an agent. McCarthy reported the battle. A company of troops was sent out as escort. The bodies of the slain herders were found scalped and literally cut to pieces, the remains were buried on the plains. A few of the stampeded cattle were caught, the expedi- tion was a failure, and young Cody returned home, where the news of his Indian killing had preceded him. He was warmly congratulated by Mr. Majors. Billy Cody was not slated for a life of inactivity. He joined another outfit with supplies for General Johnson's army. This fared with but little success. The Danites [29] THRILLING LIVES captured the supplies, and the men were again sent home. It was during this trip, however, that Cody met one of the greatest of frontiersmen James B. Hickock who won fame as a man quick on the trigger, earning the sobri- quet of "Wild Bill." He took a great fancy to young Cody, which ripened into the warmest of friendship, con- tinuing throughout the life of Wild Bill. Cody spent a year or so trapping, was captured by In- dians, had a marvelous escape, encountered a band of horse thieves, killed one, and led an expedition which captured the rest. For weeks shortly after this he had a leg broken and lay in a cave while a boon friend and chum rode and walked a hundred miles for medical aid. Then came the agitation for a mail service between the East and West that was faster than the then present-day mode of transporting letters. The Pony Express was cre- ated. By relaying horse and rider with others at certain points along the route, mail could be sent to California in about three weeks. Letters were written on the finest tissue paper and were carried at the rate of five to eight dollars an ounce. As the experiment became a success, valuable parcels were dispatched. It took but little time for the outlaws infesting the Western deserts to realize [30] MEETS OLD FRIEND that robbery of the express pouch would result to their profit. In consequence a new terror was added to that which already menaced the riders, in the shape of wild animals and marauding Indians. The riders received about one hundred and twenty-five dollars a month for their perilous work. Two hundred and fifty miles was the daily assignment that these intrepid men must coyer. On the 3rd of April, 1860, the first Pony Express rider with pouch strapped to his back bounded away on the journey that led from St. Joseph, Mo., to Sacramento, Cal. Cody, now a lad of fourteen, had gone out West again. He intended to try mining. At Julesberg he met the agent of Russel, Majors and Wadell, who owned the Pony Express line. "Hello, Billy," said Mr. Christman, who was formerly in the same wagon train with Cody, as the latter ran into him accidentally. The meeting was a cordial one. The agent was then buying ponies and equipment to get his section of the line in readiness. "Sorry you aren't older, Billy," Christman said. 'Td like to give you a job as Pony Express rider." THRILLING LIVES Then the agent explained the new venture, its dangers and the pay the riders would receive. "A hundred and twenty-five a month," mused the four- teen-year-old plainsman, thinking of the mothers and sis- ters at home. "Say, Mr. Christman, give me a chance at that job, will you?" "Can't do it, Billy ; the work is too hard and too danger- ous; nerves of steel and a quick enough eye along the pistol barrel don't come in youngsters of your age, no matter how game and willing you are." In a twinkling Cody's revolver flashed from its holster ; a cowboy twenty feet away was striking a match to light his pipe. A sharp report, and the astounded cowboy gazed at the stub end of the match held in his fingers, the other end lay on the ground. "My nerves are as good as my eye I want a job as a rider," and Cody pleaded his case to such good effect that he was promptly engaged. For three months the lad pounded against the saddle, making fifteen miles an hour every day. The work wore him down; at times he thought that possibly his nerves were made of iron instead of steel, but his will was in- domitable. [32] A CHARACTERISTIC POSE. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Permit Me to Introduce a Congress of the Rough Riders of the World." "THROW UP YOUR HANDS !" The folks at home needed the money, and he was de- termined to stick it out as long as he could keep his tired body together on the back of his dashing pony. So far he had been decidedly lucky in not meeting with any trying experiences with either Indians or highwaymen, and in due proportion he felt deeply chagrined. He craved for just a little excitement to relieve the monotony of the continuous pound, pound, pound of horse hoofs and the scurrying of coyotes. At the stables he even twitted Christman about the forewarned dangers. Wish as he might, nothing would occur to give the lad a chance to test his metal against real trouble. One day Christman called Cody to the office. "Be careful to-day, Billy/' he said; "we're sending a very valuable package through there are reports of the Halloway gang along the trail." "I'll get through safely," Bill replied, leaped to the saddle and dashed away. For several hours nothing untoward occurred. He was speeding along the narrow trail when, just as he was rounding a bend, some one shouted : "Throw up your hands!" [33] THRILLING LIVES "Can't," Cody replied. "Horse will run away." He drew rein. "I say, Mister, point the business end of that gun of yours away from my head." Cody was decidedly cool here was a predicament, just what he had hoped for, but it came without a warning; then he remembered that Christman told him to get his pouches through. "Hurry up, throw off those mail bags," commanded the outlaw sternly. "These ain't mail bags," Cody fibbed, sparring for time to get his plan of action working; "just some old papers I'm taking over to the post." "Look here, boy, I don't want to hurt you, but throw 'em o-ff quick or I'll shoot !" Cody knew he meant business. He unbuckled the bags and threw them over the horse's head at the robber's feet. As the latter stooped to pick them up, Billy rammed the spurs to the pony's flanks, the animal jumped wildly, struck the outlaw flush, and sent him sprawling to the ground. Cody's gun covered the thief in a second. "Look here, Mister Robber, I don't want to hurt you," [34] EXPRESS RIDER KILLED Billy said banteringly, mocking the other, "but throw those bags up here quick, or I'll shoot !" The robber lay motionless. Billy dismounted, ap- proached cautiously and saw that the man was unconscious. He had been struck in the head by the horse's hoof. A deep gash across his forehead told the story. After dis- arming him, Billy replaced the mail bags, hid the outlaw's weapons in the brush near by, dragged him to a tree, and, using a leather rope, tied the outlaw fast; then, remount- ing, urged the pony on to make up for the time lost in tete-a-teteing with the robber. As he neared the next station where he was to be re- lieved, Cody saw signs that foreboded trouble. The door was opened, the windows shattered, and, lying beside the hitching post, gun in hand, the relief rider was dead. There was no one to take the bags on to the next station. It meant a serious delay on the one side an eighty-five mile ride for him if he continued. Cody was tired; with- out a moment's hesitation the gritty youngster nosed his pony on the trail for Rocky Ridge. It was a heart-break- ing task, but when duty called Cody did not know the word quit. About ten miles out he had a skirmish with a party of ten or fifteen Indians; bending low over the [35] THRILLING LIVES pony's back and reaching under its neck, he emptied both revolvers at the redskins; they gave up the chase, as the boy's pony was too fleet of foot and the bullets had whizzed too near their heads. Arriving at the post he changed horses, reported the other rider's death, and half an hour later was tearing along the path homeward bound. The ride was eventless. Approaching finally the bend where he had met the robber the day before, Billy, pistol in hand, made the turn cautiously. The man was still unconscious. In a second Cody had the figure strapped on behind him. It was dark when Cody and the captive outlaw reached headquarters. Christman was standing out front ; he was mad through and through. "What the devil kept you so long?" he exclaimed. "This won't do. You're fired and fined a month's pay." Billy drew rein, dismounted, and let the outlaw slip to the ground; he was conscious and made an effort to es- cape, but was promptly checked by Cody. "Who in thunder is that?" shouted Christman. "Don't know much about him ; he tried to hold me up," Cody replied quietly. "Better send some one up to the [36] A LIFE JOB other station, someone killed the agent. I took his bags right through to Rocky Ridge." Cody started to lead his horse to the corral. "Hold on, Billy." Christman's voice had softened. "To Rocky Ridge? Why, man alive, it's a three hundred and twenty-three mile trip, and you made it?" "Yes, sir." "Well, darn my hide, I take back what I said; you're not fired you've got a life job and a twenty-five-dollar-a- month raise in wages. Here's my hand." "Thank you, sir." Then Billy fed and watered his horse, shook down some hay and tumbled off to sleep. [37! CHAPTER IV. A CIVIL WAR SPY. OUNG man, I want some one that I can trust to send on a very dangerous and important errand," said General O. J. Smith. "You will do." And with those words young Cody, now eighteen years old, tall, handsome, with a frank, boyish candor in every feature, assumed one of the most arduous military roles ever assigned to a soldier. Many events had transpired since those narrated in the preceding chapter. Mrs. Cody had passed away. Broken- hearted, he gave up the Pony Express riding. The guns of Sumter had written in flame their ominous mes- sage. Bill Cody decided to enlist. He was recruited in the Seventh Kansas Regiment, known as Jennison's Jay- hawkers, which had once disbanded, reorganized and re-enlisted as veterans. [39] THRILLING LIVES The regiment was ordered to Tennessee, reaching there just about the time that General Sturgis had been soundly whipped by the forces under General Forrest. "Report for duty within an hour if you are satisfied to take the big risks for your country." "You mean," answered Cody quietly, "that you wish me to go as a spy in the rebel camp ?" "Exactly ; you know the penalty if caught you will be hung." "I am ready to obey any duty assigned to me, sir," replied the youngster. "I am sure, Cody," said General Smith kindly, "that if any one can go through safely you will, dodging Indians on the plains was good training for the work you have in hand, which demands quick intelligence and ceaseless vigilance. Take these maps to your quarters, study them carefully, return to-night for full instructions." Saluting the officer, Cody wheeled about, his bearing every bit the soldier. When once beneath the canvas of his tent, his whole frame relaxed. "A spy," he mused; "by thunder, I don't mind being shot, but I hate to think of the disgrace of being hanged. [40] HALT! A SPY It's important work, and some one must do it. I will, and succeed, too." Just as he was about to enter the general's tent that evening, Cody saw the figure of a man skulking in the brush. He eyed him for a second, then quickly throwing rifle to shoulder, gave the command : "Halt! Who goes there?" "Don't shoot ; I'm wounded," came the reply. "Advance." A limping figure emerged from the bushes. It was dressed in Confederate gray. Cody approached. "Good God!" he exclaimed. "Nat Golden, whom I knew when I was on the freight caravans." Golden recognized Cody instantly. "Hello, Bill Cody ; what are you doing here ?" "At present making you a prisoner of war," Bill an- swered. "Nat, this is too bad. I would have rather cap- tured a whole regiment than you. I don't like to take you a prisoner. Why in thunder did you enlist on the other side?" "The fortunes of war, Billy," laughed Nat. "Friends shall be turned against friends, and brother against brother. You wouldn't have had me a prisoner if my THRILLING LIVES rifle hadn't missed fire, that wounded stunt was only a bluff ; mighty glad my gun failed me, Bill, for I wouldn't have wanted to be the one that shot you." "And I don't want to see you strung up," Bill said ; "so hand me over those papers that you have and I will turn you in as an ordinary prisoner." "Do you think I am a spy, Billy?" asked Nat, with face paled. "I know it." "Well," Nat replied, "I've risked my life to obtain these papers, but they will be taken from me anyway; so I might as well give them up now if it will save my neck." Cody called the guard, turned over his prisoner, and presented himself to the commander. As usual, he thought quickly. His plan was original and daring. "General, I gathered from a statement dropped by a prisoner that I just captured that a Confederate spy had succeeded in making out and carrying to the enemy a complete map of the position of our regiment, together with some idea of the projected plan of campaign." "I am glad to get this information," replied the gen- eral. "I will change my position so that the enemy's in- [42] WHO GOES THERE? formation will be of no value to them. When will you set out?" "To-night, sir. I have a Confederate uniform and every- thing ready for an early start." "Going to change your colors, eh ?" "Yes, for the time being; but not my principles." "You will need all the wit, pluck, nerve and caution of which you are possessed to come through this ordeal safely. Good-bye, and success go with you," and the gen- eral grasped the young man's hand in hearty manner. At four o'clock in the morning Cody was in the saddle, riding toward the Confederate lines. At dawn he sighted the enemy's outposts. He was carefully dressed as a Southern officer. With a reassuring touch of the papers in his pocket that he had taken from Nat Golden, he spurred toward the sentry. "Halt! Who goes there?" "Friend." "Dismount, friend, advance, and give the countersign." "Haven't the countersign," said Cody, dropping from his saddle, "but I have important information for General Forrest ; take me to him at once." [43] THRILLING LIVES When Forrest heard the report he ordered Cody brought before him. "Well, sir," said he, "what can I do for you?" "You sent a man named Nat Golden into the Union lines." "And if I did, what then?" "He's an old friend of mine; he tried to reach the Union camp to verify some information that he had re- ceived, but before he started he left certain papers with me in case he was captured." "Was he captured?" Forrest asked. "Yes, sir ; but as I happened to know he wasn't hanged, for these weren't on him. Golden asked me to bring these to you." With that Cody produced the maps he had taken from his erstwhile acquaintance. General Forrest knew Golden's handwriting, the docu- ments were manifestly genuine. His suspicion was not aroused. "These are important papers," he said. "Do you know what they contain?" "Every word ; I studied them carefully, so that in case [44] CODY PLANS ESCAPE they were destroyed I could still give you the informa- tion." "Very wise thing to do; are you a soldier?" "I have not joined the army. This uniform belongs to Golden. I wore it to get to your lines easier. I know this section very well could you use me as a scout ?" "What is your name?" "Frederick Williams," Cody answered, almost telling the truth. "Very well ; you may remain in camp, I'll send for you when the time comes." Forrest called an orderly. ""Make this young man comfortable at the couriers' camp." "Yes, sir." The second day after saw Cody busy. He had picked up valuable information, had drawn maps, and was pre- pared to make his escape at the first opportunity. For- rest had not as yet sent for him, and the young spy re- alized that his only mode of escape lay in taking leave without orders, the which, most likely, being followed by a volley of sentries' bullets. Cody approached the General's tent and saw him talking us] THRILLING LIVES with a soldier. He could not see the other's face. Sud- denly he recognized the voice. "Nat Golden!" he muttered under his breath, turning abruptly on his heel and making for his quarters. "Here's a mess," Cody thought, "with Golden in camp. I can see where the Johnnies will have a hanging party with me as the central figure of entertainment, and that won't do." Quietly saddling his horse, Cody mounted and leisurely rode toward the outpost, his gray uniform passed him through without a challenge. He had gone a good fifty yards and was heading for a stretch of timber; suddenly the dull thudding of horse's hoofs caught his ear, and he turned to see a small cavalcade bearing down upon him at a gallop. The spurs grated his horse's flanks as he dashed for the timber. It was out of the frying pan into the fire. He ran into a dozen Confederate cavalrymen guarding two Union prisoners. "Men, a Union spy has escaped!" shouted Cody, dash- ing up to them. "Scatter at once and head him off. I'll look after your prisoners." [46] I'M THE SPY Without a thought of questioning his command, the cavalrymen scurried right and left in search of the fugi- tive. "Come," said Bill in a whisper to the Union soldiers, "I'm the spy there," cutting the ropes that bound their wrists, "now ride for your lives!" The Confederates soon discovered the ruse and set after the fleeing trio in mad pursuit. It was a running battle, bullets snipped the trees, Cody turned, taking quick aim, brought the leader of the pursuers to the ground ; and then gave the order for his two companions to separate. The three men scattered to different parts of the wood. For an hour or so the young spy spurred through woods and open plains. The sound of pursuers ceased, and Cody jogged leisurely along the old country road, chuckling over his good luck. Riding up to a farmhouse, Bill entered and asked for food. Seated at the same table was a man dressed in Confederate gray. The two were alone. "You little rascal, what are you doing in those 'sesesh' clothes ?" the tall man inquired, with a quiet laugh. Cody's first thought was that he had been recognized. In an in- stant his pistol flashed in view. [47] THRILLING LIVES "I ask the same question of you, sir," he bravely re- plied. "Hush! Sit down; put that shooting iron of yours away and have some bread and milk." It was "Wild Bill," one of Cody's staunchest friends, disguised as a Confed- erate officer. After a quick luncheon, the two strolled out. "Billy," Wild Bill said, "I am mighty glad to see you. What are you doing here ?" "Scouting and getting information." "That's exactly what I'm doing. Take these papers, Billy, to the General; tell him I'm digging up too much good news to leave the Confederate camp." "All right. When will I see you again?" "You'll hear from me in a day or two." They shook hands and parted. True to his word, it wasn't long before Wild Bill and Cody met, but in a manner that neither had counted on. One day while both armies were drawn up in skirmish line near Fort Scott, Kansas, two men were seen rapidly leaving the Confederate side, dashing toward the boys in blue. Instantly volleys were discharged from the sol- diers in gray, who also began a pursuit and some five hun- [48] 5 td F DON'T SHOOT BOYS! dred shots were fired at the fleeing men. It was evident that the two were trying to reach the Union lines, but when within about a quarter of a mile the one in the lead suddenly raised in his saddle, took quick aim, and the other toppled to the ground to rise no more. A detach- ment was sent out under Cody to meet the horseman and check his pursuers. In the dim twilight it was difficult to distinguish faces. The Confederates, on seeing the charge made by Cody and his men, paused and, wheeling around, rode back to their lines. The lone horseman kept on coming. He was a Confed- erate officer. Instantly every Union rifle came to the shoulder, awaiting the command to fire. "Don't shoot, boys ; it's a Union spy. It's Wild Bill !" shouted Cody. [49] CHAPTER V. WILD BILL'S OWN STORY. IX foot two, broad chested, measuring fifty inches around, with a waist that you could almost span, a foot like a woman, long, blond hair, which glistened like gold in the sun light, and with muscles equalling any trained athlete or prize fighter, Wild Bill Hickok was a magnifi- cent specimen of manhood and one of the most deadly shots with rifle or pistol that ever lived. Moreover, he was an expert horseman, with nerves of steel and a heart as brave as a lion. Fiction in its wildest flights of imagination never chronicled a more thrilling episode than that which happened to Wild Bill and what follows is an exact reproduction of his own story of the McCandlass gang fight the greatest single-handed encounter and battle [51] THRILLING LIVES ever fought here are his exact words as told to Buffalo Bill, shortly after the fight : "I hardly know where to begin. I was at it for the Union all through the war. I don't like to talk of that McCandlass affair. It gives me a queer shiver when I think of those ten blazing men eager, literally, to pull my heart out and eat it. Lord, how wicked we men are down deep! "You see, this Jack McCandlass was the captain of a gang of horse thieves and murderers who were the terror of the border States. McCandlass was the biggest and most brutal of them all. Jim McCandlass was next. He was Jack's brother. One day I beat him, Jack, shooting at a mark, and then threw him, wrestling and I didn't drop him as softly as you would a couple of poached eggs on toast, either so he got savage-mad about it and swore that he would have his revenge on me some time. That was just before the war broke out, in April, '61, and we were already taking sides for the South or Union. Mc- Candlass and his gang were border ruffians in the Kansas row, and, of course, they went with the rebs. I forgot McCandlass, but he didn't forget me, it appears. I went Union. is*] MY GOD ! THEY'LL KILL You ! "It- was in '61, when I was guiding a detachment of cavalry that was coming in from Camp Floyd. We had nearly reached the Kansas line, and were in South Nebraska when one afternoon I went out of camp to go to the cabin of an old friend of mine, a Mrs. Waltman. I took only one of my revolvers with me, for although the war had broken out I didn't think it necessary to carry both my pistols on all occasions. In ordinary fights one is better than two if you shoot straight. I saw some wild turkeys on the road as I was going down, and I shot one, thinking it would be just the thing for Mrs. Waltman's supper, for a wild turkey is very sweet eating. I rode up to Mrs. Waltman's, jumped off my horse and went into the cabin, which was like most of the cabins on the prairie, with only one room and two doors, one opening in front, the other to a sort of yard and pretty garden. " 'How are you, Mrs. Waltman ?' I said. "The second she saw me she turned as white as a corpse and actually screamed " 'Is that you, Bill ? Oh, my God ! They will kill you ! Run, run, or they will chop you all to bits/ " 'Who's going to kill me?' I said. [53] THRILLING LIVES " 'It's McCandlass and his gang ! There's ten of them, and you've no chance ! They've just gone down the road to the corn rack! They came up here only five minutes ago ! McCandlass was dragging poor Parson Shipley on the ground with a lariat 'round his neck! McCandlass knows of you bringing in that party of Yankee cavalry and he swears he'll cut your heart out and eat it! Run, Bill, run, like a good boy.' I was only twenty-three, then. 'My God, you can't! It's too late! They're coming up the lane and they've seen your horse !' "All the time the poor lady was talking I was thinking that I had only one revolver, and a load for the turkey was gone out of that. On the table were a horn of powder and some little bars of lead. I poured some powder into the empty chamber and rammed the lead after it by hammering the barrel on the table, and had just capped the pistol when I heard Jack McCandlass shout : " 'Yes, it's that damned Yankee, Bill Hickok's, horse ! He's here ! Let's skin him alive !' "If I had thought of running before, it was then too late. I never dreamed that I should leave that room alive. Later something breathed on me and made -me strong." Here Hickok stopped, rose to his feet and glided back [54] WILD BILL PRAYS and forth in great excitement. It was not acting. It was the real thing. He seemed to have forgotten us. He was living in the past. "I tell you what it is, gentlemen. I don't mind a scrim- mage with these fellows around here. Shoot one or two of them and the rest will skedaddle like a lot of fright- ened rats; but all of the McCandlass gang were reckless devils who could and would fight so long as they were able to stand, sit, shoot, stab, punch, tear or bite. That was one of the few times that I prayed, gentlemen. Since then I've prayed often. Prayer is wonderful to help out. " 'Surround the house and give the no quar- ter!' yelled McCandlass. When I heard that I felt as quiet and cool as if I were going to church with my father and mother and sisters. I looked around the room and saw a Hawkins rifle hanging over the bed. 'Is that loaded?' I asked Mrs. Waltman. " 'Yes/ the poor thing- whimpered. She was so scared and no wonder! that she couldn't speak out loud. I felt guilty to have pulled the row off in her cabin. " 'Are you sure ?' said I, as I jumped on the bed and caught it from its hooks. She nodded yes again. Just [551 THRILLING LIVES then McCandlass poked his head inside the doorway, but jumped back when he saw me with the Hawkins in my hands. " 'Come in, you dirty dog !' I shouted. My voice seemed to me to cross the Atlantic. McCandlass was a big bully, but not a rank coward. He jumped into the room with two hells in his eyes, his gun almost levelled to shoot the heart out of me, but he wasn't quick enough. The Lord must have delayed him, and my rifle ball tore the top of his head off. There was a dead silence as he fell back through the doorway. I put down the rifle on the bed and picked the revolver from it. Mrs. Waltman bless her dear soul had disappeared through the yard. I couldn't help inwardly smiling and saying, like an actor in a St. Louis stage play, 'Deserted on the eve of battle by my army !' "Only six shots and nine men to kill! I don't know how it was, but something really seemed to breathe on me just then and things seemed clear and fine and sharp. I could think strong. There were a few seconds of that up yonder silence, and then they came through both doors with a rush ! How wild they looked, with their red, sin- splashed, crime-masked faces and flaming eyes, shouting [56] WILD BILL AT BAY and saying things I was glad good Mrs. Waltman didn't hear. I never aimed more coolly in my life. One, two, three, four and four men were dead, not wounded. I never wound. McCandlass made the number five. That didn't stop the remaining five. Two of them fired their bird guns at me and I felt fire run all over me. The room was full of smoke. Two got close to me, their eyes burn- ing like hell. One I knocked down with my fist. I think I broke his jaw. The other I shot dead. The three others crowded me onto the bed. "I had to fight fast. I broke one man's arm. He had his fingers round my throat and was tearing at it like a wildcat. Then I went wild as a grizzly some one struck me across the breast with a rifle and I felt the blood rush from my nose', ears and mouth. Then I got ugly, bad, horrible, as all of them put together cruel, crazy, sorry that there wasn't a roomful more of them and I got a bowie somehow into my hand. Then it was all clouds, smoke, flame, blood, runaway stars, breaking suns, bursting moons, roaring seas of crimson, and as they tried to rise I slashed at their heads with the heavy backed bowie, chased them around the room, into corners, closed the doors so they couldn't escape, stabbed, chopped, [57] THRILLING LIVES slashed breasts, arms, heads, faces, until I knew that every man was dead twice over !' "All of a sudden it seemed as if my heart were afire. I was bleeding everywhere, from knees to scalp. I stag- gered out to the well, drank from the bucket, and then tumbled, the bucket over my head soaked with blood my own and theirs and well water, over in a faint, just like a girl." Hickok was wounded by three bullets, eleven buck- shot, and was cut in thirteen places. It was six months before "Wild Bill" fully recovered from the result of what was one of the most thrilling exploits in border his- tory. [58] CHAPTER VI. How BUFFALO BILL WON His NAME. N 1865, at the close of the war, Cody was dis- charged with honors. He had served his country well. He went to St. Louis and brought to a culmination the sweetest ro- mance of his life by marrying Miss Louisa Frederici. For a period the scout settled down to a quiet life and became a hotel proprietor by renting a hostelry in Salt Creek Valley, Kansas. He was a jolly "mine host," and it looked for a while as if the plains would lose one of its favored sons. But the call of the wild pleaded strongly, and once more Bill Cody donned the buckskin. The war had left its bitterness in many places. Cody was to see one instance that was anything from pleasant. Shortly after his wedding the happy pair started on a short journey. They boarded a Missouri River steamboat and headed for their new home in Kansas. [59] THRILLING LIVES "I say, Cody," one gentleman remarked, after the boat had proceeded but a short way, "the people on this boat don't seem to have any too great a love for you." Cody had noticed that several on board had pointed their ringer at him and passed remarks that he could not plainly hear. "What does it mean?" Cody asked. "What are they saying? It's all a mystery to me." "They say that you are one of the Kansas jayhawkers, and one of Jennison's house-burners." "I am from Kansas, that's true; and was a soldier and scout in the Union army," Cody replied, "and I was in Kansas during the border ruffian war of 1856. Perhaps these people know who I am and that explains their hard looks." The second day out from St. Louis the boat stopped to wood up at a wild-looking landing. Suddenly twenty horsemen were seen galloping through the timber, and as they came nearer the boat they fired on the negro deck- hands, against whom they seemed to have a special grudge. The negroes jumped back on deck, from where they had been throwing on wood, and pulled in the gangplank. [60] CODY MEETS CUSTER The steamer pulled out in the stream as the bushwhack- ers appeared on the bank. "Where is that abolition jayhawker?" shouted the leader. "Show him to us and we'll shoot him!" yelled another. But by this time the boat was well out and the incident closed. It was rather embarrassing for the newly wedded man to meet with such a reception as this; but he was equal to the occasion. Telegraphing from Kansas City, Cody had a party of his friends meet the steamer on its arrival, and the reception they got was more than gratify- ing to the young bride. In 1866-67 he acted as scout at Fort Fletcher, and later at Fort Hays. While there he met the gallant Custer for the first time. "Cody, I want a guide," Custer said, "to take myself and men to Fort Larned. Can you do it?" "Yes, sir." "When?" "I am ready to start now, sir," and Cody saddled up a big mule. "I want to travel fast ; do you think that mule of yours can keep up?" [61] THRILLING LIVES "General, never mind the mule," Cody replied; "he'll get there as soon as your horses." For the first fifteen miles, until they came to the Smoky Hill River, Cody had trouble in keeping his mount moving fast enough. But soon the animal struck its gait, and when the party reached Fort Larned, sixty-five miles away, Cody was in the lead. "General, how about that mule?" asked the scout, with a smile. "You had a better vehicle than I thought," Custer said, laughing. A short time after this, while the Union Pacific was pushing its tracks westward, in the very heart of the buffalo country, the Indians being constantly on the war- path, it was difficult, almost impossible, to obtain fresh meat for the workmen. The Messrs. Goddard Brothers had the contract for supplying meat, and found themselves sorely pressed to live up to its terms. It was suggested that Cody, being a crack shot and thoroughly familiar with the plains, might be the very man they needed, as he could kill all the buffaloes necessary. They sent for the young man, an offer was made him of five hundred dollars a month for HUNT FOR BUFFALO all the fresh meat they would require. Cody accepted, and the next day started on a hunt. He rode a horse named Brigham, one that Cody be- lieved was the shrewdest and best plainsman's animal that ever lived. It did not take the hunter long to locate a buffalo herd. Just as he was preparing to make a charge a party of horsemen rode out from Fort Hays. They proved to be some newly arrived officers from the East, one being a Captain Graham and the others lieutenants. "Hello, my friend," called out the Captain, "I see you are after the same game as we are." "Yes, sir," Cody replied. "I saw the buffaloes coming over the hill and was just starting for some fresh meat for the railroad men." Cody's unassuming saddle outfit made a sad comparison with the excellent equipment of the soldiers. His horse in particular came in for a bit of joking. As a matter of fact the animal in his straps did not show to the best advantage. "Do you expect to catch buffaloes on that nag?" asked one. "I hope so, by pushing the reins hard enough." THRILLING LIVES "You'll never do it in the world, young fellow," the Captain said. "It takes a fast horse." "Does it?" asked Cody innocently. "Yes, but come along with us we're out for pleasure more than anything all we want are the tongues and tenderloins, we'll be good to you, you can have the rest," the Captain added generously. "Much obliged, Captain, I'll follow you" Cody had a twinkle in his eye. About a mile away was a herd of eleven fine buffaloes. The officers dashed ahead. Cody took in the situation at a glance. The herd started for a creek and the scout knew their nature well enough to realize the difficulty of turning them from their direct course. He sped towards the creek while the officers closed in the rear and gave chase. The herd came crashing by Cody not over a hundred yards away. He circled the band and in twelve shots the entire herd was sprawled on the blood-stained ground. He dismounted and was examining the buffaloes when the officers came up. "Gentlemen, allow me to present to you all the tongues and all the tenderloins that you wish from these carcasses," and Cody smiled graciously. [64] IRON TAIL, THE SIOUX CHIEF. PURSUED BY INDIANS "By Jove, that was great work," pouted the Captain. "Who under the sun are you, anyway?" "My name is Cody." One of the junior officers had heard of the scout's feats in the expeditions that had gone before, and they all shook hands warmly, insisting that Cody return to the fort with them for a little celebration. That very night Indians made a raid on the horses. A detachment of colored sol- diers under Captain Graham, with Cody as scout, started in pursuit. Nearing sunrise he located the redskins and just as the charge was to be made one of the negroes in his excitement fired a gun. A dash was made but the Indians being warned and seeing they were outnumbered took to their horses and escaped. Cody resumed his work as meat provider for the rail- roaders. One day, in the Spring of 1868, he started for Smoky Hill River, where reports had it that large herds of buffaloes were grazing. On reaching the place he selected a knoll from which to make a charge and was just about ready when about half a mile away he discov- ered a party of about thirty Indians. That he had been seen the scout knew, as the Indians started for him on a mad gallop. [65] THRILLING LIVES "My only chance is to make a run for it," he mused, and wheeling his horse, started for the railroad camp. After a few hundred yards he turned, saw them coming, and saw, too, that they were gaining on him. Eight or nine of the yelping devils had closed the gap to about three hundred yards one Indian in particular, who rode a fine spotted, swift-footed horse, annoyed Cody by sending frequent rifle bullets in unfriendly proximity to his head. "That's about enough for you," thought Cody, as one ball clipped the air near his ear. He pulled his horse up short, swung in the saddle with rifle to shoulder ; the Indian was eighty yards away and coming like mad. Bang! Down went the Indian's horse. Cody saw the effect of his shot and spurred on. The others were making big gains. By turning and shooting quickly, then dashing away, Cody laid several in the dust. The rest still kept up the chase, but Cody's horse had the staying power and soon outdistanced the maddened red- skins. Dashing into camp Cody secured a detachment of fifty soldiers and started after the Indians. It was just in time, too, as they had just overtaken one of the supply wagons of the railroad coming from another direction. [66] CODY IN PERIL At first fire from the soldiers the Indians retreated, only to renew the attack a second later. The battle waged for hours when, with a final charge by Cody and his men, the Indians fled, leaving five of their number dead on the plains. And so it went from day to day. Cody was in con- stant peril, but despite it all he stuck to the terms of his contract in supplying meat for the railroad. It was largely due to his sturdy efforts that the Union Pacific was able to make the progress it did. While hunting one day Cody met Kit Carson and his escort. The two were fast friends and spent several days together at Fort Hays. Cody's fame and success as a buffalo hunter spread far and wide. There were others that achieved success in the perilous game of buffalo hunt- ing and each treasured his own record. One in particular Billy Comstock, a noted scout, guide and interpreter, then chief of scouts at Fort Wallace, Kan- sas, had the local distinction of being the champion buffalo hunter. There were others that thought Cody the best shot on the plains. When the subject was mentioned to the latter he had nothing to say, he was always modest, but when pressed agreed to enter any sort of a competition [671 THRILLING LIVES that would leave no future doubts as to who was entitled to the laurels of champion. The officers had taken a great liking to Cody and be- lieved that as a buffalo hunter and all-around scout, guide and crack shot, his equal did not exist. A purse of five hundred dollars was raised and Comstock challenged to settle the matter of supremacy between him and Cody as buffalo hunters. The money was to go as a side bet. A condition of the hunt was that it should commence at eight in the morning and close at four in the afternoon, the winner to be considered as the champion buffalo hunter of the world. These details were sent to Comstock, who was at that time known as "Buffalo Bill Comstock." This title was also involved in the outcome of the shoot. He readily agreed to the terms, and the event was advertised far and wide. A point twenty miles east of Sheridan was selected as the place of contest. Hundreds of men and women assem- bled on the designated day, coming from St. Louis and many other cities. The day broke clear and cloudless, with just enough crisp in the air to make it invigorating. It was agreed that [68] CODY'S NEW FEAT the men should go into the same herd at the same time, each killing as many as possible. Comstock was mounted on his favorite horse, Cody rode Brigham. The referee gave the signal and the great hunt was on. Both men spurted for the herd, Comstock to the left and Cody to the right. Comstock got twenty- three, Cody shot thirty-eight, the entire number in the herd he was in. He was loudly applauded by the throng of spectators, who had been left a half mile away, until the charge was made, and then they closed in close to watch the shooting. After a short rest another herd was discovered. Com- stock shot fourteen and Cody eighteen, making the score fifty-six to thirty-seven in the young scout's favor. A halt was called for lunch ; good fellowship prevailed. With victory thus in sight and flushed with confidence, Cody proposed a feat that was astounding. "In the next trial, ladies and gentlemen, I will ride my horse without saddle or bridle," he announced and good as his word, when the signal was given, Cody's horse had no harnessing of any kind. Guns popped, the hunters rode like mad, Cody cool and deliberate, taking his shots with such skill that it evoked [69] THRILLING LIVES constant exclamations of wonder from the spectators. The plains were strewn with dead buffaloes. When the final score was announced it stood, Comstock forty-six, Cody sixty-nine. A tremendous cheer arose, Cody was smoth- ered with congratulations. "Three cheers for Bill Cody," some one suggested. "Wait wait" shouted another "let's give three for Bill Comstock, and then three rousing ones for the greatest hunter of them all and crown him with his new title now, all together three cheers for Buffalo Bill Cody!" [70] CHAPTER VII. SHERIDAN'S CHIEF OF SCOUTS. HAVE important dispatches for General Sheridan, and my instructions from Cap- tain Parker, commanding Fort Lamed, are that they shall be delivered to the General as soon as possible," announced a courier, dust covered and fatigued from a hard ride. "Give them to me," an officer said. "I prefer giving them to General Sheridan myself and at once." Sheridan was asleep at the time an orderly went to notify him of the courier's arrival, and it was none other than Buffalo Bill Cody. Shortly after the hunt in which he won his title Cody completed his work with the railroad, supplying in all four thousand two hundred and eighty buffaloes. He then re- turned to scout duty at Fort Larned. He had been sent on THRILLING LIVES a mission to Fort Zarah, and completing it, started on the return to Fort Larned on a mule. Not a dozen miles had been covered when about forty Indians dashed up. "How, how," they exclaimed in friendly greeting. "How," Cody replied, eyeing them suspiciously, noting they wore their war paint. "Shake hands," an Indian said. Cody extending his in good will, it was seized with a sudden grasp, a tightening of grip and the scout was jerked violently forward, another grabbed the bridle and a second later Cody was completely surrounded. Then all grew black before him, he had been felled with the blow of a tomahawk dealt from behind. When he opened his eyes Cody found that he had been carried to an Indian village. There was a council going on and he was placed in the center of the chiefs, presided over by Santanta, a bloodthirsty and crafty redskin. The outlook was bad, and Cody realized it. Never for a mo- ment did he falter in bravery, his wits collected he knew A .hat it was one chance in a hundred if he ever escaped, and if he did it would not be by force but by outscheming CODY'S STRATAGEM the Indians just how he could not tell then, but the chance came and he was equal for the emergency. "Where have you been?" Santanta asked. "After cattle," came the quick reply it flashed through Cody's mind that the Indians had been without meat for some time and that in their efforts to pacify the redskins meat had been promised them by a certain general. Santanta was interested at once. He eagerly questioned the scout. "I was sent by the General" Cody lied glibly "to tell you that the cattle were coming." "Good," grunted the old rascal, then, with a frown, "soldiers come, too?" "Yes." "General send cattle to us?" "Yes, I was ordered to bring them over here" then in a bold tone "why did .your young men treat me so roughly, I came here friendly to you?" "Very sorry, all a mistake," and the wily chief smiled. Santanta was thinking hard. He wanted the cattle, but he did not want a fight with the soldiers. [73] THRILLING LIVES "I was to bring the herd to the river there so you could get them," Buffalo Bill said with nonchalance. "Shall I send my young men with you?" "No, it is better for me to go alone then the soldiers can go right on to Fort Lamed while I drive the herd over the river for you." Santanta, believing that Cody was telling the truth, apologized for his unruly young men and permitted the scout to leave the village. Cody wheeled about, spurred his mule and rode away in the supposed direction of the cattle. All went well for a little while. He took his time in getting away, so as not to arouse suspicion, and then, when at a safe distance, he struck into a lively gait and swerved from his course, heading for the fort. He had gone but a short way when, upon looking back, saw that ten or twelve Indians were following him. They saw him turn, and in a flash realized that they had been hoaxed, started in pursuit. The chase continued until within a few miles of the fort, when finally Cody spied a government wagon with soldiers. "Into the brush, quick!" shouted Cody, "Indians coming." [74] FOR GEN'L SHERMAN The team was driven among the trees and hi'dden. A sharp turn had made the hiding successful from the In- dians. It wasn't a long wait before the redskins thundered along. Two of them passed the hiding place. "Give it to 'em," commanded Cody. Others had come up in the meantime and four feathered warriors toppled to the dust at first fire. Finally Buffalo Bill popped another from his horse, then realizing that they had been ambushed, the other Indians turned and fled. The scalps were taken along with their arms and equipment by Cody and soldiers. The next morning San- tanta with his entire force surrounded the fort. "Cody, the captain is anxious to send dispatches to Gen- eral Sheridan at Fort Hayes," one of the officers said, "and none of the men are willing to go, will you tackle it?" "It's a risky trip, the country is full of hostile Indians," Cody replied, "but if no other scout is willing to volunteer I'll chance it. Give me a good horse and I'll start at dusk." A terrific rainstorm gathered in the later afternoon. By six o'clock it was impossible to see a dozen rods ahead. This added further peril to the undertaking which none would risk except brave Cody. [7SJ THRILLING LIVES "Good-bye, Bill, and good luck," was the parting saluta- tion that greeted the scout's ears. He groped his way slowly. Only once during the night was he in real danger, and then he ran into an Indian outpost watching the vil- lage. The redskin had fallen asleep and Cody was on him in a flash. A heavy blow from Cody's rifle butt laid the Indian unconscious. He could just as easily have killed him, but it was not Cody's way of doing. It might be said here that in all the bloody times that Buffalo Bill went through, he never took a redman's life except to save his own. Cody got away without being seen or heard by those in the village. It was a sixty-mile grind. He reached Gen- eral Sheridan's headquarters just at sunrise. "Hello Cody, is that you!" greeted Sheridan, coming from his room. "Yes, sir I have some dispatches here for you from Captain Parker." Sheridan read the papers carefully, and then Cody re- lated his experiences of the day previous. "Bill," Sheridan said, "you must have breakfast with [76] GREETED BY SHERIDAN me. That was a good joke you played on Santanta. You have had a long, hard ride and must be tired." "A little weary, General/' "Come, have breakfast with me." "Thank you sir, but I think I'll ride over to Hayes City, it's only a mile, and I have some friends there." "Very well, but come back, as I want to see you before you return to the fort." A short visit, a hearty meal and after handshaking around and a brief nap, Cody returned to headquarters and was about ready to leave for Fort Larned. Several scouts were gathered around headquarters and talking excitedly. "What's the matter?" asked Cody. "The General wants some one to carry dispatches to Fort Dodge." "That's about a ninety-five mile trip and a long one, too," Cody mused to himself, walking in to see the General as he had been requested. They had been talking a few minutes when the chief of scouts entered. "General," he said, "no one has vol- unteered to go to Fort Dodge." "Very well," Sheridan replied, with just a trace of a frown. 177] THRILLING LIVES "General, if no one will volunteer I'll carry your dis- patches myself." "I had not thought of asking you to do this duty, Cody," the General responded, evidently pleased and in surprise, "as you are already pretty hard worked, but it is really important that these dispatches should go through." "If you don't get a courier by four o'clock, I'll be ready at that time," Cody answered. "All I want is a fresh horse, meantime I'll take a little more rest." Four o'clock came, but no volunteers. "General, I'm ready," Cody said, presenting himself to Sheridan. "Good luck go with you, my boy." The trip proved uneventful except for the hardship it entailed on the already worn-out courier. He arrived at Fort Dodge a little after nine next morning. The com- manding officer there had dispatches for Fort Larned, but, as before, no one cared to volunteer on the long, hard and dangerous ride. Cody again came to the front. "Give me a fresh horse and I'll carry them for you," he said. "I am sorry, but we haven't a decent horse here, but we [78] DANGER-BESTREWN TRIP have a reliable and honest government mule, if that will do you." "Trot out your mule, that's good enough ; I'm ready to start at any time." At dark the scout was on his way for Fort Larned. Thirty miles out he dismounted at a creek to drink. He had neglected to tie the lariat from the mule's bridle to his belt and the animal jerked loose, started down the creek at a trot. Try as he might, Cody could never over- take the beast. He coaxed and threatened to no advan- tage, and stranger yet, the mule struck the trail for Fort Larned and kept to it with the maddened scout walking on behind. Mile after mile this kept up. When day broke Cody was plodding on behind the jog- ging mule. "Damn your tantalizing hide, take that," and a ball from Cody's rifle brought the recalcitrant mule to sorrow. Continuing on, Cody walked to the Fort, where he de- livered his messages, secured a new mount and the morn- ing after reported back to General Sheridan. Altogether he had ridden and walked three hundred and fifty-five miles within fifty-eight riding hours, a long and danger- bestrewn trip. [79] THRILLING LIVES "Cody," General Sheridan said, after . warmly compli- menting him on his remarkable feat, "the Fifth Cavalry is going on an expedition against the Dog Soldier Indians in recognition of your good and faithful work, I hereby appoint you as guide and chief of scouts with the com- mand." [so] A TYPICAL COWBOY AND HIS CHARGER. CHAPTER VIII. THE BATTLE OF SUMMIT SPRINGS. ALF-PAST nine and all's well," rang a sen- try's voice. Then there was a pause, the outpost next made no sound. "What the divil's the matter wid that other sentry?" asked an Irish sergeant of the Fifth Cavalry, "why don't he answer?" Fully ten minutes went by and still no sound. The sergeant mounted his horse and rode cautiously along the river bank to investigate. There was a rustle in the brush, then he heard the tread of the sentry. The sergeant called out, "Hallo there, why didn't ye answer the call?" and still getting no response, rode on over to where the sentry stood. It was one of the Pawnee Indians that had joined the expedition as scouts, under Major Frank North. There were several companies of them, and on ac- count of their excellent work they had been enrolled in the [81] THRILLING LIVES regular army and assigned to many of the white soldiers' duties. That the Pawnees, who were the deadly enemies of the Sioux, were splendid warriors and rendered invaluable aid to the Fifth Cavalry was apparent, and at the same time it was equally apparent that the Pawnees had a hard time to master the English language and grow accustomed to the usages and routine of the regular army. "Hey, there, ye divil," exclaimed the sergeant, "why didn't you answer that call. That's what you're out here for, when we hear ye say 'all's well,' we know that the enemy isn't at hand." "Me forget very hard for me to do that," answered the Pawnee scout. "See that you don't forget again say something when the sentry next to you passes the word. Don't forget, now," and the sergeant rode away. Half an hour later the sentry cried : "Post number one, ten o'clock, and all's well." A minute's pause and then in no certain tones the Pawnee shouted : "Poss number half-pass five cents go to hell I don't [82] PAWNEES ON PARADE There was a rumble of laughter from the men. The system was found impractical, and the Pawnee scouts were thereafter relieved from sentry duty. This was not the only laugh that the hard-fighting Pawnees gave their white soldier friends. While the Fifth Cavalry was at Fort McPherson awaiting the completing of its equipment, a general dress parade was ordered, and the Indian scouts were in their glory. It was the first opportunity that they had had to display themselves in the full regalia of a soldier of Uncle Sam. When the bugle sounded for the review the Pawnees appeared dressed as if for a scene in comic opera. Some of them had on their heavy overcoats, others large black hats, with all the brass accoutrements attached. Others wore the regulation pants but had no shirts and were bareheaded. Others again had the seat of the pants cut out, leaving only leggings; some of them wore brass spurs, but had on no boots or moccasins. Despite all this, they were good soldiers, hard riders, crack shots and desperate fighters. The order was given and the command moved on up the Republican River. The next morning shots were heard along with the whoops of Indians in the vicinity of the mule herd which had been taken down to water. tit] THRILLING LIVES "Indians are there!" shouted a herder as he staggered into camp with an arrow sticking in his shoulder. Cody was mounted in a second, and followed by a band of the Pawnees, made for the watering place. It took only a few seconds of fighting to disperse the attacking party. A running fight of fifteen miles was engaged in, resulting in several of the marauding Indians being killed. It was during the chase that Buffalo Bill, mounted on one of the fleetest of horses, was overtaken and passed by a Pawnee, who was riding one of the swiftest animals that Cody had ever seen. After the fight Bill swapped his horse, some tobacco and other trinkets and secured the Indian's horse, which he named "Buckskin Joe." The Pawnees had been sent out to kill fresh meat and soon had a herd of buffaloes surrounded, there were twenty Indians in the party, and in all they killed thirty animals. Just then another herd hove in sight, Cody dashed away and in a very short time had strewn thirty- six bison along a half mile of prairie single handed. The Indians after this held the scout in the very highest esteem. The command moved on up the Republican River. In- dian tracks were found which Cody discovered were made by the Sioux. He was sent out with a small party of [84] SOUND THE CHARGE! Pawnees to try to locate the band. The day after Buffalo Bill came on fresh tracks and was astounded upon close examination to discover the imprints of a woman's shoe. Word was sent to General Carr. Orders were issued for a forced march. Cody was then about ten miles in advance of the army. He saw that he was nearing the village of the Indians, and sent word back for extreme caution to be exercised. Keeping the command wholly out of sight until it was within a mile of the Indian village, Carr commanded the soldiers to close up, and at his order make a dash for the village. "Sound the charge," General Carr called out but the bugler was struck dumb with fear at the sight of hun- dreds of Indians. Again the General issued the order, but the bugler could get no command of his lips. "I'll do it," shouted Quartermaster Hays, seizing the bugle, sounding the charge, tossing the horn away and grasping a revolver in each hand, sprang out with the leader. The Indians had just driven up their horses and were preparing to break camp when they heard the bugle notes and saw the soldiers rushing down upon them. Many [85] THRILLING LIVES succeeded in getting to their ponies and fled in precipitate haste, others leaving everything behind in the camp ad- vanced out of the village, and with true Sioux determina- tion prepared to meet the attacking party of whites. On came the soldiers, yelling and shooting, they stopped for nothing, but plunging straight through the camp they left a trail of dead and wounded on every side. Buffalo Bill was engaged in a hand-to-hand conflict, when above the din and roar of battle he heard a woman scream. A quick thrust with his knife and his Indian antagonist rolled to the ground writhing in agony. Cody broke for the teepee whence the screams came. He reached there just in time to save one of the white captives from being tomahawked by the squaw of Tall-Bull. The captive, though badly wounded, told that she and another woman had been taken prisoners after the Indians had robbed and killed all the male whites of a settlement not far away. The other woman had been slain by the squaw just as the soldiers entered the village. By orders of General Carr, all the effects of the Indians were burned, the injured woman was taken under care by the surgeons. Cody rode on to reconnoiter. The Sioux were not long in gathering together their scattered forces [86] CODY KILLS CHIEF and returned to battle the whites. Buffalo Bill was on the skirmish line and in the hottest part of the fight. One Indian in particular seemed to be the chief and it was the following out of his orders that led to disaster for the soldiers. Cody determined to put a stop to his career. Dis- mounting from his horse the brave scout crept to a ravine where he could command a better view, though placing himself in greater peril. The chief dashed by and yelled commands in his lan- guage. Cody could understand enough to let him know that the chief was urging his people to make it a do-or-die affair, and just then the scout's rifle cracked. The Indian rolled to the dirt. He had been mounted on an excellent horse which, as soon as he was riderless, in place of turning back to the Indians, made straightway for the soldiers and was captured. In token of the shot he had made the horse was presented to Buffalo Bill. The fallen Indian proved to be Tall Bull, one of the most wicked of all the Sioux chiefs. That ended the battle. For his noble work General Carr received a vote of thanks, as did Buffalo Bill, from the Legislatures of both Nebraska and Colorado. Not long after this Buffalo Bill met for the first time Col. E. B. C. [87] THRILLING LIVES Judson, known better as Ned Buntline, a famous writer. Buntline became very much interested in the great scout, effects of which were to manifest themselves at a later date. In the Spring of 1871 General Emory, who was then in command of Fort McPherson, called Cody to his quarters. "Cody, there has been so much petty deviltry going on in this neighborhood that I want it stopped," he said, "and the best way that I knew was to get an appointment for you as justice of the peace." "General, you compliment me too highly," Cody replied, blushing; "I don't know anything more about law than a government mule does about bookkeeping." "That doesn't make any difference," he said, "you will make a good squire." And so he did. For several weeks he busied himself with the various things that came to him under his new routine of duties. Finally he was called upon to perform a marriage ceremony. The bridegroom was one of the sergeants of the company. This was a stunner to the scout. He looked through all the available books at hand to find the mode of procedure, but nothing came to his rescue. Finally he picked up the "Statutes of the State [88] +f% THE ILLUSTRIOUS LIFE OF BUFFALO BILL. From Original Sketches. CODY A "MARRYING PARSON'' of Nebraska," thinking possibly somewhere there he would find instruction he looked in vain. The time approached for the wedding and nothing daunted, Cody determined to do the very best he could. "Do you take this woman to be your lawful wife?" he said bravely, when the pair stood before him, "and prom- ise to support and love her through life?" "I do," was the reply. Then he repeated the question to the young woman ; she answered in a manner that was satisfactory. "Then join hands I now pronounce you to be man and wife, and whomsoever God and Buffalo Bill have joined together let no man put asunder. May you live long and prosper. Amen." [89] I CHAPTER IX. ENTERTAINS ROYALTY AT BUFFALO HUNT. BOUT the first of January, 1872, General Forsyth journeyed to Fort McPherson to make preparations for a big buffalo hunt at which the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia was to be the chief guest of honor. Cody in- formed him that there were plenty of buffaloes in the vicinity, especially on the Red Willow, sixty miles away. Buffalo Bill was commissioned by the representatives of General Sheridan, who was arranging the hunt, to visit Spotted Tail's camp, one of the Sioux warriors, located somewhere on Frenchman's Fork, nearly a hundred and fifty miles from Fort McPherson. The pur- pose of the visit was to induce about a hundred of the Indian warriors and chiefs to come to the Grand Duke's camp, so that the latter could see the Indians and observe the manner in which they killed buffaloes. THRILLING LIVES Cody guided the party to Red Willow with a small escort of armed men, and left them there while he pro- ceeded alone. The weather was very cold, there was more or less danger from the Indians, for although Spotted Tail himself was friendly, it might prove a dangerous task to enter the camp. As he had during the past few years made many enemies among the Sioux in the differ- ent battles, there was a possibility of meeting them at any time. From fresh horse tracks and the dead buffaloes lying here and there, Cody knew that he was nearing Spotted Tail's camp. He rode on a few miles farther, then hiding his horse in a low ravine, crawled up a high hill where he had a good view of his surroundings. Four or five miles straight ahead he saw a number of Indian ponies and knew that the camp must be near by. Waiting until night- fall, he mounted and rode into the camp unobserved. Cody wrapped a blanket around his head, leaving just enough room to see, and rode around until he found the chiefs tent, then dismounting threw back the flap and en- tered. He was cordially greeted. Spotted Tail, when he knew the request came from General Sheridan, accepted the invitation. [92] MEETS GRAND DUKE Next morning the chiefs and warriors were assembled according to orders, and to them was stated the object of the scout's visit. "Do you know who this man is?" asked Spotted Tail, pointing to Cody. "Yes, we know him well," replied one, "that is Pa-he- haska (which means long hair in the Sioux language), that is our old enemy." "That is he," returned Spotted Tail," I want all our people to be kind to him and treat him as my friend." Cody returned to Red Willow. Great preparations were being made for the hunt. Everything was finally in readi- ness, when on the morning of January 12, 1872, the Grand Duke and his suite arrived at North Platte by special train, Cody and a delegation of soldiers were at the train to meet them. "Cody," General Sheridan said, "this is the Grand Duke Alexis. I am going to ask you to take charge of him, and show how you kill buffaloes." General Custer was one of the party that witnessed the war dance given by the Indians that night. Morning broke with a fine sun shining warmly. Just as the party were about to start [93] THRILLING LIVES for the hunting grounds some one came up to Cody and said that Mr. Thompson did not have a horse. "What Thompson?" asked Cody. "Why, Mr. Frank Thompson, who has charge of the Duke's train." Cody had following him "Buckskin Joe," his celebrated war horse. This animal was not a very prepossessing thing to look at. He was buckskin in color, and rather a sorry-looking animal, but was known all over the fron- tier as the greatest long-distance and best buffalo horse living. Cody had never allowed anyone but himself to ride this horse, but as he had none other there at the time he ordered it bridled and saddled, and told Mr. Thompson he could ride him until another could be secured. This horse looked so different from the beautiful ani- mals that the rest of the party were supplied with that Thompson thought it rather discourteous to mount him in such fashion. . As Thompson rode past the wagons and the ambulances he noticed the teamsters pointing at him, and thinking they were guying him, he rode up to one of them. "Am I not riding this horse all right?" he asked. [94] BETTER TRY MINE Thompson felt some personal pride in his horsemanship ability. "Yes, sir," the driver replied, "you are riding all right." "Well, then," Thompson said, "it must be the horse that you men are guying." "Guying that horse!" the teamster exclaimed in sur- prise. "Not in a thousand years." "Well, then, why am I such a conspicuous object?" "Why, sir, aren't you the king?" "The king why do you take me for the king?" "Because you are riding that horse. I guess you don't know what horse you are riding, do you? Nobody gets to ride that horse but Buffalo Bill. So when we all saw you riding him we supposed of course that you were the king, for that horse, sir, is Buckskin Joe." Thompson felt relieved, and afterwards thanked Cody for the honor of allowing him such a mount. It was planned that the Grand Duke was to have the first shot. The nobleman elected to use his pistol. At the first sight of the herd the Russian galloped at them, firing six times without scoring a hit. "Better try mine," Cody suggested, handing over his revolver. But the next six shots went as before, and Cody [951 THRILLING LIVES seeing that the herd would get away from them rode to the Duke's side. "Take my rifle and I'll give you the word when to shoot." The nobleman was now mounted on Buckskin Joe, and as he took the gun Cody swatted the animal, Joe gave a jump and took the Duke to the buffaloes' side. "Now's your time," shouted Buffalo Bill, and the Rus- sian fired, killing his first buffalo. Afterwards, on the re- turn to camp, Alexis shot a buffalo with his pistol ; it was either a remarkably good shot or a scratch, but none of the party cared which, and the Duke was given a rousing cheer. One day the Duke asked Cody to get the Indians out for a buffalo hunt. Spotted Tail selected several of his best hunters, armed them with bows and arrows and had them surround a herd, bringing the animals down with arrows and also lances. "I will show you a remarkable shot," Cody said a second later, calling upon an Indian named Two Lance to do one of the most difficult feats that has ever been accom- plished with bow and arrow. The Indian rode into the herd and with string pulled tight sent an arrow straight [96] THEFAMOUS GENERAISQFTHEU.S.ARMY BUFFALO BILL ER THRILLING STAGE DRIVE through a buffalo's body. The arrow was given to the Duke as a souvenir. Buffalo Bill astounded the Royal party by his own expertness with rifle and pistol. "Get in here, Cody," General Sheridan said on the way back, "and show the Duke how you can drive a stage coach." It was a thrilling run with the General and his royal friend hanging on all the time. "How was that?" the Duke was asked when the horses came to a stop. "Very fine, but I prefer to go a little slower," he re- plied smiling. The hunt had been a great success and Buffalo Bill was warmly complimented by General Sheridan. "By the way, Bill," Sheridan said, "you have an invita- tion from several of the gentlemen who were on the hunt with us at Hays City, to visit New York; you will never have a better time than now. Write a letter to General Stage, of Chicago, and he will send you a pass. I have had a talk with General Ord and he will give you a leave of absence whenever you are ready to start." "Thank you, General." General Ord granted the leave readily, and as Buffalo Bill was stepping out of the room he said : [97] THRILLING LIVES "Cody, how would you like a commission in the regular army? General Sheridan and I have been talking the matter over and it can be arranged for you without any trouble." "I am much obliged, General, but I guess just being a plain scout is good enough for me." Cody was received in the East with open arms ; he was a guest of honor at many homes, and time flew by very rapidly. It was the first trip East, but his reputation had preceded him, he was the cynosure of all eyes, and mightily embarrassed to be stared at from morning until night. Among the entertainments prepared for the great scout was an invitation to a very exclusive masked ball. The very best of society was there. Its brilliance dazzled Cody. "What did you think of that?" he was asked the next day. "Reminds me of an Indian war-dance," he naively replied. It was on this occasion that he visited the theatre for the first time. The play on the boards was a border drama called "Buffalo Bill." As soon as the audience recognized [98] WE NEED You! him sitting in a box, there was a shout and cheers and calls for a speech. "I'll give you five hundred dollars if you will play the leading role," the manager said. "Not on your life," blushed the bashful Cody. At thae time he would rather have faced a thousand warriors on the plains than gone on the stage before all those people. A few days after Cody met General Sheridan. "Bill, are you having a good time?" "Say, General, this is the best camp I ever struck my furlough is about up; couldn't you extend it about ten days?" "Yes, gladly; but after that Cody, you must get back to Fort McPherson, there is to be an expedition sent out and we will need you there." [99] CHAPTER X. PAWNEE BILL'S BOYHOOD DAYS. AY, are you Trapper Tom Evans?" "Yes, young fellow, what do you want?" the other answered coldly. "Just to tell you that I am going to work for you." "The deuce you say." "When do I begin?" "By thunder I like your nerve, never saw you in my life before and now you just make up your mind to go to work for me without asking any one's permission. Where'd you come from?" "Ran away from home." "How did you get down here in Oklahoma?" "Walked most of the way." "What for?" "Looking for work." [101] THRILLING LIVES "What's your name?" "Gordon W. Lillie." "Can you shoot?" "Some." "Ride?" "Some." "Got any grit?" "Some." "Alright, we'll try you out." Gordon was at this time a lad of seventeen, of sturdy figure, frank in manner, sharp blue eyes, and a chin that stood for determination. He was born in Blooming- ton, Illinois, February 14, 1860. Newton W. Lillie, his father, owned one of the largest flour mills in the city and was very prosperous. Gordon received a high school edu- cation. The family had planned that the lad was one day to go into the mill and eventually succeed to the business. But the youngster had plans of his own, he was just in the impressionable age and he did what most high-spirited self- willed young men would have done under the circum- stances. He ran away from home. Tales of the West had inspired fanciful dreams of easily gotten wealth and it was quest of that rather than a [102] RUNS AWAY bloodthirsty desire to fight Indians that prompted Gordon W. Lillie to hazard Fate in unknown lands. Just about this time the father conceived the plan of moving to Kansas and erecting there the first flour mill in the southeastern part of the state. With his wife, Susan Ann Lillie, one son, Albert, and two daughters, Newton Lillie started for the south. From Bloomington the journey was made by train to Wichita and then to Well- ington by wagon. "Mother/' Gordon said when alone with her, "I am not going with you and the family." "My son," exclaimed she in surprise, "you must not be foolish, come." "No, mother, I am going to strike out for myself, and see if I can't make my way alone." The mother pleaded in vain for a long time, then seeing that the lad was determined and knowing his nature con- sented to his leaving. "Promise me, Gordon," she said, "that no matter where you are or what you are doing, that you will always think first of me and whether I would be proud of your under- taking. Promise me that you will think twice before you act, that you will always help the weak, be generous with [103] THRILLING LIVES those that are deserving, avoid trouble. You are going into strange lands, you will be a stranger, you will find temptations of all kinds, do not gamble and do not drink. Do you promise?" "I do, mother." Gordon a few days after loitered along the main street in Wichita ; it suited his fancy, there were cowboys, gam- blers and the motley throng incident to border towns in the early days. For a week the experiences he was injected into inter- ested him, it was something new, something out of the rut of home life, and for the first time he commenced to realize that he was thrown on his own resources, that he had his own battle to fight. He made friends quickly. His jovial good nature installed him as a general favorite. "Hello son, you look lonesome," a burly cowpuncher said one night as Lillie was watching a play at cards in the "Good Luck" gambling house, "have a drink." "Never touch it." "Come on have a drink I say," and the bully edged close to him, "you tenderf eet can't learn to be men any younger ; hurry up, barkeeper, give Mother's baby a drink. I'm going to make a man of him." MEETS DESPERADO It might be noted here, that to refuse the hospitality such as was offered, constituted about as deadly an insult as could be given. Of course, Gordon did not know this or if he did he didn't care. "Go on Kid, humor him," whispered a bystander "take a drink." Before Lillie had a chance to move one way or the other, the drunken cowboy dealt him a terrific blow in the face. Gordon caught himself on the bar railing, steadied for a moment and then planted his fist square on the cow- boy's nose. The latter reeled and tumbled to the floor senseless. "Holy smoke, Kid run, he'll kill you," yelled the bar- tender. "I guess not," calmly replied Lillie, adjusting his coat. "Come on get away before he comes to, don't you know who that is?" pointing to the figure on the floor, now slowly moving in a struggle to regain his feet. "No, and I don't give a damn, I guess if there is to be any education of tenderfeet around here I'll take a hand in the teaching." "Got a gun?" "No." [105] THRILLING LIVES "Take this one and look out, you're a game boy, but you're going against a tough proposition when you snag 'gainst Trigger Jim/ " Lillie shoved the gun back as the cowboy was getting to his feet. "What in hell fell on me," muttered Trigger Jim, wip- ing the blood from his face, then seeing Lillie, "oh, yes, it was you wasn't it," and reached for his pistol. Gordon was too quick, he pounced on him like a panther, both rolled to the floor, a smashing thud and Trigger lay quiet. "Guess he'll be good now for a while," mused Lillie. With the first sign of the struggle, the gambling stopped, one or two of the players ducked behind the tables, others used the stove as a shield to protect them from the bullets that everyone expected to see fly when Trigger Jim got up the first time. He was a genuine bad man. "Say sonny you're alright, but take my tip and scoot, that fellow is a bad actor and you're made of too good stuff to carry a pound or so of his lead around in your hide as a souvenir." Gordon listened to the well-intentioned advice. "Any way," he mused going through the doors, "guess I don't want too much excitement for a starter. This town [106] LILLIE WON'T GAMBLE seems to be able to accommodate a fellow with most any kind of trouble he isn't looking for." He jogged down the street. The whole town was in a buzz, every second building was a saloon and gambling house. Men of all creeds and classes jostled each other, beneath every coat on the right hand side rearwards was the usual hump that bespoke a shooting iron, and there were many with notched handles. It was too early to go to bed. He strolled into another saloon, walked over to a faro table and sat down to watch the play. It was exciting and the hum and whirr of it all suited the lad to a dot. Stacks of money were seen everywhere, gold and silver in more quantities than he ever dreamt existed. The dealer was called Lame Bill, a wheezened old man with only one eye. He nodded to Lillie. "Want a stack?" "No, never play." Several of the gamblers looked up, one or two laughed and the play went on. "What do those dealers make a day ?" Gordon asked an onlooker. "Eight to ten dollars, some of 'em get more when the boss aint looking." "Pretty risky stealing aint it?" [107] THRILLING LIVES "Sometimes if they get caught Old Bill there is dead square he ain't got enough education to be crooked. Have a drink?" "No thanks, just had one." Gordon smiled to him- self. He sat there for an hour, the heat, the tobacco smoke and the liquor- fumes made him drowsy. He fell asleep. Suddenly there was a crash and loud swearing. Gordon awoke with a start. All was in confusion, the play had stopped, men scurried under cover. Several pistol shots rang out. From where he was behind the stove Gordon could not see the front part of the saloon. "What's happened," he asked a fellow crouching beside him. "Shut up," the other whispered. "It's Trigger Jim fuller than a beer keg and he's looking for some one." It didn't take Lillie long to figure out the object of the ruffian's search. He sat quiet. "Where is he, that infernal young tenderfoot?" roared Jim. "He ain't here, Jim," declared the bartender from a safe hiding place behind a pile of barrels, "he went out five minutes ago." "It's a lie, he thinks he can lick me, I'll show him, I'll [108] JIM'S GIRL PLEADS show you all there ain't no man living what can lick Trigger Jim." Bang! bang, and the bullets from the maddened cow- boy's pistol shattered the back bar mirror. No one stirred. Trigger was too well known, his aim was too quick and deadly for anyone to foolishly try to pacify him in his frenzy. The crowd figured that when he had given vent to his spleen he would leave. Just then a woman opened the doors. It was Jim's girl. "Come on home, Jim/' she urged. "Shut up, I'll come home when I get good and ready." The woman stood still in the doors and looked at him pleadingly. "Get out I say or I'll throw you out," raged the drunken cowboy, lurching toward her with unsteady step. "Jim you're crazy drunk, come on home." "Drunk am I ? Crazy am I ? Take that," swinging his clenched fist at the woman's head. She fell in a heap and, unbalanced by the momentum of his blow, he tumbled to the floor beside her. He struggled to his feet. Lillie had watched the brutal assault, no one raised a hand to help the woman. Lillie was at the cowboy's side in a second. "That don't go, you cur," he said, kicking the pistol from THRILLING LIVES Jim's hand. "No hitting women when I'm around," and as the cowboy rose Lillie dealt him a smacking blow, send- ing him half way across the room. "Boys, take care of the woman, and when that bully comes to, tell him that I'll pull his nose the next time I see him." The crowd was struck dumb with amazement. Nbt a word was spoken as he pushed through the swinging doors. "Guess if I want to keep out of really thrashing some one to-night I'd better go to bed," and suiting action to the word, undressed and was soon fast asleep. Shortly before daybreak there was a loud knocking on his door. "Who's there?" "It's Pete, the landlord, open up quick." As soon as Gordon let him in, he continued, "Say Kid, you've got yourself hooked up to a bunch of trouble." "What's the matter?" "Trigger Jim has been gunning for you all night says he's going to kill you on sight some one told him that you were stopping here. Get up and get out quick, it's your only chance." [no] AIM STRAIGHT "He's bluffing, I licked him twice last night, he don't want any more." "I tell you he's sober now, the last punching you gave him did it, he ain't used to be licked by anyone and it hurt his pride." "I guess his nose too," and Lillie smiled. "He means business this time Kid, you'd better get away while you can." Just then angry talking was heard down stairs. "Let me at him, it's him or me this time, I'll shoot at sight." There was no mistaking, Jim's voice or the sincerity of his intention. Gordon dressed in a second. "Got a gun?" asked Pete. "No." "Take mine, slip out the back way, when you see him shoot, or he'll get you," and added Pete, "do the town a good turn by aiming straight, now go." It didn't take the news long to spread that there was to be a shooting match. They all knew Trigger Jim's ability and from what they had seen of Lillie the night before they had good reason to believe that the youngster wasn't going to run away. In times like this everyone found it THRILLING^ LIVES safer to remain until one or the other got his man. If the inward well wishes of the town counted for anything Gordon went doubly armed. "By thunder," he said to himself, "things are moving lively for me, I come for work and get astraddle a bunch of trouble that would nearly make a fellow quit, and here this chap is insisting on decorating a grave with my body. Guess it looks like business this time." Quickly examining the revolver and testing it he turned the corner, gun in one hand, his coat in the other. It was not yet daylight, a heavy mist gathered and deepened the slow breaking dawn. It was difficult to see more than a hundred feet ahead. Keen-eyed and ears alert Lillie started up the street. Sud- denly a head popped around the corner and then jerked back again. "As I thought," he muttered, "any man that strikes a woman is a coward, this fellow isn't going to fight in the open." A pistol hammer clicked. Then a dead silence. Lillie stopped, he could hear Jim breathing. He was waiting for the youngster to reach the corner. Gordon made up his own mind quickly. [112] THE LATE KING EDWARD VII. In the Wild West Camp at Olympia, London, England. THE DUEL He walked straight ahead, until within ten feet of the corner, then coughed, and threw his coat straight ahead, it passed the corner where Jim was lying in wait. Bang, and a flash of flame spurted from Jim's pistol. The ruse worked. "I got you, you little pup," yelled Jim jumping out in the open as he saw the coat fall. Then seeing how he had been tricked, wheeled and fired point blank at Lillie. Two shots rang out at the same in- stant. Trigger Jim pitched headlong to the street. Lillie wiped a trickle of blood from his own ear which had been creased by Jim's bullet. Within a few seconds after the shooting the crowd col- lected, they found Gordon bending over Jim's dead body. "Guess he's dead, boys ; sorry, but I had to do it." "Gentlemen," the sheriff said, who had in the meantime arrived, and heard the entire story, "the first twelve of you men there step forward, rest of you stand back. That's it now, gentlemen of the jury this young feller here has just pulled a killing on Trigger Jim. Is he guilty or not guilty?" "Not guilty," came the answer in one accord. tut] THRILLING LIVES "Thank you men, the jury is discharged/' the sheriff said, "some of you fellers dig a hole back yonder and do a little planting, guess where Jim's gone it won't do no good to have the preacher do his spiel." Then turning to Lillie, "Young feller you're alright, shake." The crowd dispersed. Gordon went to the boarding house, packed up his things and left. He struck out for Indian Territory on foot, a walk of a hundred and sixty miles south. Being unfamiliar with the lay of the country he mistook the trail and found himself on the bottom lands which had overflowed from the Kansas River. He was often compelled to walk through water varying from knee to hip deep. It was on the second day out that he met Trapper Tom Evans and his party. Working with them appealed more to Lillie than to continue his hard walk. "What happened to your ear?" asked Trapper Tom, "it's bleeding." "Oh, just scratched it," Gordon replied, "on a briar brush." [H4] CHAPTER XL BUFFALO BILL AS AN ACTOR. URING the Fall of 1872, Buffalo Bill received many letters from Ned Buntline, whom it will be recalled met the great scout some time previous during a hunt of the plains. Buntline had been very success- ful as a magazine writer. "Come East, Cody," he wrote, "I'll make an actor out of you. There's money in it, you'll prove a big success." Cody had only recently been elected to the Legislature and was just settling down in a comfortable home. His friends with whom he spoke about venturing on the stage urged him against it. But Buntline was persistent, and finally Buffalo Bill capitulated. He sent for Texas Jack, one of his friends and a noted scout. They left for Chicago amid the good will and misgivings of many friends. Buntline met them at the depot. THRILLING LIVES "Well boys," he greeted, "are you ready for business?" "I can't exactly answer that," Cody replied. "For we don't know much about this acting business." "Come with me," Buntline reassured the two plains- men, "we'll see the manager of the amphitheatre, that's where we play, opening there on Monday night." The details of making ,a contract with the manager were soon arranged. "Have you your company Buntline," the manager asked. "Not yet, but it won't be hard to get, there are always a lot of idle actors hanging loose around Chicago." "Give me an idea of your play and I may be able to help you pick the cast, I know where most of the actors are. We haven't much time to loose." "I haven't written the play yet," Buntline returned. "What the deuce do you mean, no play, no actors and here it's Wednesday, and you are to open on Monday night, it's preposterous, Buntline I cancel your contract." "That's alright about the contract, how much do you want for the theatre for one week?" "Six hundred dollars." "You're on, here's half of it in advance, come along boys." HERE WE STICK The trio went to the hotel, Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack to have a nap and Buntline hustled himself to his own room. "Don't let any one disturb me until I come down/ 1 he said. Four hours later he rushed into the room with Cody and Texas Jack. "Hurrah for the Scouts of the Plains, that's the name of the play, I've just finished the drama," he exclaimed. "Here are your parts; now boys, get to work and study hard, rehearsal will be at ten in the morning." Buntline hurried out to arrange for the rest of the company. "Say, that fellow is swift, ain't he?" Jack said. "He's as speedy as Tall Bull." "How long will it take you to learn that part Bill ?" "Well, I figure in about six months." "Me too, to get the first line, say Bill, let's cut it and go back West." . "No, sir, we came on to act, here we are and here we stick," Cody answered with determination, at the same time wishing inwardly that they were back in the saddle. THRILLING LIVES "The Scouts of the Plains" was an Indian drama, with a lot of thrills, mainly it permitted the public to get a near hand view of the great Western character, Buffalo Bill, they had read so much about. Financially it was a success. The dramatic critics treated the embryo actors with leniency, although one writer remarked that if it really took Buntline four hours to write the play, the scribe won- dered what he had been doing all that time. But Buntline was right, Buffalo Bill was a novel char- acter and it was soon evident that the public would pay well to see him on the stage. A road tour commenced which lasted until June 16, 1873. Cody's profits from the season amounted to six thousand dollars. He determined to try it again, this time including with Texas Jack, Wild Bill, the scout and hero of the Mc- Candles' gang fight. The company was known as the Buf- falo Bill combination, with John M. Burke as its business manager. Lively times were in store for the troupe. Wild Bill took the show business as a huge joke and would never take his work seriously, he was up to deviltry all the time. It was at Titusville, Pa., when soon after the company arrived the landlord sought out Cody. [118] THRASHES ROWDIES "Don't you or any of your party go into the billiard room," he said trembling. "Why?" "There's a gang of toughs in there from the oil fields, they are all drunk and say they came up to clean out your party." Wild Bill overheard this. "Watch me Bill," he said starting for the door. "Keep count as I throw 'em out." "Hold on Bill," Cody said, "wait until after we show to-night" Good as were his intentions and promise not to go there, Wild Bill's curiosity overcame him and he sauntered into the billiard room a little while later. "Hello Buffalo Bill," one of the rowdies exclaimed. "We've been looking for you all day." "My name isn't Buffalo Bill." "You're a liar," retorted the bruiser. Bill knocked him down and seizing a chair soon had seven of the gang strewn out on the floor. The show went on that night without any disturbance. When the season closed in Boston, Cody made his prepa- rations to return to Nebraska. An English gentleman by THRILLING LIVES the name of Medley presented himself with a request that the scout act as guide on a big hunt and camping trip through the Western territory. The pay was liberal, a thousand dollars a month and expenses; Buffalo Bill ac- cepted the offer. He spent that summer in his old occupa- tion and the ensuing winter continued his tour as the star of the drama. Wild Bill and Texas Jack were again in the company, but the second season proved too much for the patience of the former, and he attempted to break his contract. The manager refused to release him, but Wild Bill conceived the notion that under certain circumstances the company would be glad to get rid of him. That night he put his plan into execution by discharging his blank cartridges so near the legs of the "dead" Indians on the stage, that startled supers came to life with more realistic yells than had accompanied their death. This was a bit of business not called for in the playbook, and while the audience was vastly entertained, the manage- ment withheld its approval. Cody expostulated with the reckless Indian slayer, but Wild Bill remarked calmly, "that he hadn't hurt the fellows anyway," and continued to indulge in his innocent pastime. [120] BUFFALO BILL AND PAWNEE BILL. Side by Side on Their Favorite Mounts. BAD NEWS Severe measures were next resorted to. He was in- formed that he must stop shooting the Indians after they were dead or leave the company. This was just what Wild Bill had hoped for, and when the curtain went up on the next performance he was to be seen sitting in the audience, enjoying the play for the first time. Cody sympathized with his former actor, but he had a duty to perform and faithfully endeavored to persuade the recreant actor to return to the company. Persuasion went for nothing, so the contract was annulled and Wild Bill made ready to return to his beloved plains. "Here Bill is a little gift from Texas Jack and myself," Cody said handing him two one thousand dollar bills. The next season Buffalo Bill removed his family to Rochester and organized a company of his own. There was too much artificiality about stage life to suit one that had been accustomed to stern reality, and he sought to do away with as much of it as possible by introducing into his own company a band of real Indians. The season of 1875-76 opened brilliantly; the company played to crowded houses everywhere. One night in April when the season was nearing its close, a telegram was handed to Cody, just about as he was THRILLING LIVES to step on the stage. It was from his wife summoning him to Rochester, to the bedside of his only son, Kit Car- son Cody. He consulted with his manager and it was ar- ranged that after the first act he was to be excused, so that he might catch the train. That first act was a miserable experience, though the audience did not suspect that the actor's heart was almost stopped by fear and anxiety. He caught his train and the manager played out the part. It was too, a miserable ride to Rochester, filled up with the gloomiest of forebodings, heightened by memories of every incident in the precious little life now in danger. Kit was a handsome child with striking features and curly hair. His mother always dressed him in the finest clothes and tempted by these combined attractions, gypsies had carried him away the previous summer. But Kit was the son of a scout, his young eyes were sharp. He marked the trail followed by his captors, and at the first oppor- tunity, gave them the slip and got safely home, exclaim- ing as he toddled into the sobbing family circle : "I turned back adain, Mama, don't cry." Despite his anxiety, Cody smiled at the recollection of the season when his son had been a regular visitor at [122] CODY'S SON DIES the theatre. The little fellow knew that the most important feature of a dramatic performance, from the management's point of view is a large audience. He watched the seats fill in keen anxiety, and the moment the curtain arose and his father appeared on the stage, he would make a trum- pet of his little hands and shout from the box : "Good house Papa. 11 The audience learned to expect and enjoy this bit of by- play between father and son. His duty performed, Kit settled himself in his seat and gave himself up to undis- turbed enjoyment of the play. When Cody reached Rochester he found his son still alive, though beyond medical aid. He was burning up with fever, but still conscious and the little arms were joy- fully lifted to clasp around his Papa's neck. He lingered during the next day and into the night, but the end came, and Cody faced a great sorrow of his life. He had built fond hopes for his son and in a breath they had been swept away. Little Kit was laid to rest in Mount Hope Ceme- tery April 24, 1876. Cody determined to cut the theatrical season short. There were still several weeks of contracts to fulfill. One THRILLING LIVES day as he was leaving the hotel for the theatre he heard the newsboys shout: "Extra! Extra! All about the Indian war out West!" "Here boy, give me a paper," and Cody glanced at it hurriedly. "What's happened Bill," one of his company asked, peer- ing at the paper over his shoulder. "Another uprising with the Sioux." "I'll bet the government wishes you were out there." "I'm going." "What," exclaimed the other in surprise, "you can't break your theatrical contracts." "I can bust anything when my country needs me," Cody replied. "To hell with the show business, I'm going West to-night." [124] ffi M td 3 O d CHAPTER XII. PAWNEE BILL MEETS JESSE JAMES. OR several years Gordon worked for Trapper Tom Evans. His youth was for a time the butt of many jokes among the trappers. But they soon grew to know him as a determined youngster afraid of no danger that man or elements could suggest. He took naturally to the trails, its ways and its hard- ships. It wasn't long before the men ceased to call him tenderfoot. In the fall of the year Lillie started to market in charge of a pack train laden with dried hides and pelts. The nearest selling place was the Pawnee Indian Agency. One bitter cold night on the journey he decided to re- main on Camp Creek until daylight. Hardly had the horses been tethered and the fires going when a cutting northwester gave his experienced mind the foreboding of bad weather. THRILLING LIVES The pack mules bunched on the side of the creek, refus- ing to leave either for food or water. They too knew that a storm was brewing. Amid lightning flashes and a down-pour of rain the elements raged in their fury. Seeing that remaining in camp would be as bad as forging ahead, Lillie thought it best to try to make some headway. But his mules refused to budge an inch. Saddling his own horse, he started for the agency to get provisions, leaving the remaining animals securely tied. Within an hour the rain turned to snow, it fell in blinding flurries, obliterating every landmark. He could see noth- ing ahead and hear nothing except the wailing of the wind. Lillie dismounted, broke a small limb from a tree and stuck it in the snow, fully half an hour later, though he was riding all the time, he came across the same bough. "As I thought," he muttered with teeth chattering. "Completely lost and just going round and round in a circle." He tried to build a fire but all his matches were wet, he was without food, with no prospects of the storm abating. "Guess we'd better keep a moving any way old horse," and with that he started again, with head bowed low over LOST IN STORM the saddle pommel. He had gone but a little way when with a pitch he was thrown head foremost from the saddle, rolling over in a pile of snow. His horse had fallen over a river bank. Lillie's wrist was bady bruised in striking a cake of ice. He made his way back to the horse, the ani- mal was lying on its side and seemed unable to rise. "Here old fellow you must get up, this lying down here won't do." But try as he might the horse could not move. Gordon soon found the reason why, the animal had broken its leg in the fall. There was only one thing to do, Lillie did that re- luctantly. "Too bad old pard, I hate to see you go," he said, draw- ing his revolver, "this will put you out of your suffering." Lillie removed the saddle from the dead animal and wrapped the blanket around his own body. There was noth- ing to do but wait or freeze to death. He sat down on the horse's side. A few minutes passed when he was startled to hear a groan, it sounded like the creaking of trees. A bit more and Gordon heard the sound again. "Some other animal has fallen over the bank, I guess," he mused and thoroughly numbed with cold, sank to the ground, his eyes were heavy, the icy grip of a death sleep [127] THRILLING LIVES was stealing over him, he seemed to realize it and made a final struggle to his feet. Stumbling on, numb in every joint with the bruised wrist aching badly, the young trap- per tried to make headway against the storm. He found that by keeping close to the under side of the river bank that the force of the storm was somewhat spent before it hit him. He had gone a few feet when he heard the groan again. He stopped and listened intently. Then again came the sound. "Halloa," he tried to cry, but his lips would hardly open to let out the sound. He listened. "Halloa," came a faint answer, like the echo of a dying wind. "My God," he mused, "there's some poor devil out in the storm too." Bending every muscle he started in the direction of the voice, not twenty feet away he came upon the prostrate form of a man nearly covered with snow, which had crim- soned with blood. "Halloa there, stranger," Lillie said, kneeling down be- side him, "you look to be in a bad way." "Got any whiskey," faintly asked the other. [128] RESCUES STRANGER "No," and despite the seriousness of their predicament, a smile traced itself over Lillie's features. "For heaven's sake," he thought, "everywhere I go someone is talking about a drink." "Can you stop me from bleeding so much," the stranger said. Lillie took the horse blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around the wounded man. There was a gaping wound in his forehead, and one arm was shot through. "What happened?" "Sheriff and his men " but could get no further. Lillie saw that unless aid was secured for the bleeding man that he would soon die, he did not know which way to turn, the snow still fell in blinding sheets. "Cabin-up-river-bank,-about-two-hundred-yards, try-to- get-me-there," faintly faltered the other. "I'll go for help," thought Lillie, "no I might as well try to carry him along," and with that the youngster summon- ing all his strength drew the wounded man to him and started on the journey. Stumbling and falling at nearly every step, it seemed a hopeless task. But Gordon would not give up as long as there was an ounce of life left in him. He staggered on. THRILLING LIVES Dimly through the falling snow Lillie thought he saw a light. He tried to cry out but no sound came from his lips. The wounded man, exhausted by loss of blood and cold, had swooned away. His dead weight was beginning to tell on the sturdy youngster. Finally, seeing that he could not carry his burden any more and that he was with- in a few feet of the cabin, Lillie laid the man in the snow and half falling at every step staggered to the door, he stumbled against it and fell, as he did so there was the sharp report of a rifle. A bullet crashed through the door not two inches above Gordon's head. Then all was still, Lillie had fainted. After a few minutes the door was opened just enough to allow a rifle barrel to come through. "Who's there," demanded a voice from the inside. There was no answer. The door opened a little more and finally was gradually shoved back. Gordon's body which had fallen against the bottom part fell into the room. "Guess you got him alright," said one of the men in the room. "Who is it?" "Dunno, turn up the light." "Why, it's that young feller that works for Trapper MAN OUT THERE! Tom," one said rolling Lillie over on his face. "That's too bad, didn't mean to hit him." Just then Gordon moved, the heat of the room had re- vived him a little. "Man out there," he panted and fell off to unconscious- ness. "Go out Dick and see who it is." In a few minutes Dick returned carrying the almost frozen body of the wounded man. At a glance the men inside saw it was one of their number. Stimulants were applied and the injured man regained consciousness, in a few words he told the story of his rescue by Lillie. Gordon about this time was coming to, they put him to bed, applied the usual restoratives and treatment for those who are frozen. In the morning Lillie awoke refreshed after a sound sleep and was but little the worse for his experience the night before. He raised his head. He tried to collect his scattered senses. He could not account for his being in bed in a strange place. At the far side of the room there were several men, including the wounded man that he rescued the night before. Slowly memory came back, he recalled THRILLING LIVES everything up to the time that he had fallen against the door. He got up. At the first sound he made there was a quick movement on the part of four men, they wheeled facing him and Lillie was astounded to find himself looking down four rifle barrels. "It's only the young feller," said one, and the guns came down. "Well bub, how do you feel ?" one of them asked. "Pretty good, but where in the deuce am I and why this cordial greeting with the guns. Do you fellows always say good morning to a stranger with a rifle ?" "As a rule we say good night to him with that/' laughed one who seemed to be the leader. "Any way you have noth- ing to fear. The boys want to thank you for saving one of our pals." "Oh, that's all right now don't ask me if I want a drink of anything, except some of that good smelling coffee over there." He got up, one of the men bandaged his swollen wrist and the party sat down to breakfast. "That chap was in pretty bad shape, lucky I happened MEETS JESSE JAMES to get lost in that storm, or I guess he would have passed in before morning. How did he get shot up?" "Well/* began one of the men, "we don't as a rule talk much about those things, but I guess you're entitled to know. You see, we boys ain't very popular with the con- stables or the detectives, and when we come across each other there's usually a burying takes place." And from the armed appearance of every member of the gang Lillie needed no stretch of imagination to believe it. "Who the dickens are you fellows anyway?" he asked. "Jesse James and his men," replied the tallest of their number, who had acted as the spokesman. "Gee whizz!" exclaimed Gordon. "That's alright, don't be afraid." "Not a darn bit afraid only surprised, you don't seem to be a bad sort of a fellow at all." "Well, that's because you wasn't looking for us and we wasn't looking for you, that might make a differ- ence," the other replied. The storm had abated by this time and Lillie prepared to go. "Now young feller, we have got to stay here and look after the one that was shot you know there's a big re- [133] THRILLING LIVES ward for us what are you going to talk about when you get to town, if we let you go?" "About the first thing will be to talk someone into giv- ing me a job, I suppose Trapper Tom will fire me, for losing his horse ; the rest of the team, I guess, is frozen to death by this time." "Aren't going to say anything about us." "Why the devil should I?" "To get the reward." "Well, I'm not looking for that kind of money you've treated me right if you hadn't been in. this cabin I'd a froze to death, I'm glad to be alive but don't like the idea of that long walk to the Indian agency." "You won't have to walk," James said, "you can have one of our horses." And true to his word, Gordon never mentioned having met the Jesse James crowd until long after they were driven out of the state by the Rangers. For several months he continued in the employ of Trap- per Tom. The work offered no advancement and his am- bitious nature chafed under the limited opportunities. One day while at the agency he learned of an opening. He secured the influence of several prominent men who had [134] APPOINTED INTERPRETER been watching the youth's career for some time. He was installed as secretary to the Government agent. He liked the work. The Indians with whom he was thrown in daily contact grew attached to him. He saw a way of further advancement but it meant much study, but after some time he overcame all the difficulties of the Pawnee lan- guage. The opportunity came and he approached Colonel Hay- worth, the Government Inspector. "Colonel," Lillie began, "I've been studying hard and I want to be an interpreter." "But " "I know twenty dialects," Lillie ignored the objections, "and I would like to get the place." "You are too young, my boy." "It's not youth you're hiring, Colonel, it's my ability as an interpreter." "Yes and your obstinate determination to get whatever you go after," Hayworth laughingly said, "Alright, I'll get you the commission." In this position he remained for some time, adding new friends and achievements to his budding career. In the summer of 1884 a party of four masked men, heavily [135] THRILLING LIVES armed and swiftly mounted rode up to the only bank at Medicine Lodge. One held the horses and the other three entered the bank. "Hands up," exclaimed the leader. "Not so fast," cried Lillie, who had only a few minutes before entered the bank to deposit some government money, his revolver was in action at once. The hammer fell on an empty barrel, the desperadoes opened fire on him and Lillie, seeing that a four handed fight with three men who had loaded pistols while his was empty, was not conducive to his best health, made a dash around the counter and escaped through the back door while the rob- bers kept shooting. Both bank clerks were killed. Lillie dashed into the street. "Get your rifles," he yelled, shouting to a crowd of citi- zens a little way off. "Bank being robbed, let's give 'em a run for it." The ranchers and cowmen headed by Lillie soon over- took the bandits, a running fight commenced in which one of the bank thieves was shot from his horse, another wounded and the other two captured. The cowboys were for a lynching bee then and there. A Few of the f2ea